


He always starts something

by Codango



Series: Those goddamn Karasuno boys [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drunken Kissing, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, House Party, M/M, Phone Sex, Regret, Rivalry, Secret Crush, Sexting, Sharing a Room, Sloppy Makeouts, Team Dynamics, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codango/pseuds/Codango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stroke of luck, actually,” Takeda nattered on. “I meant to tell you earlier, but there’s just so much information to get through for things like this. You might recognize the name of the student who volunteered his room...”</p><p>Takeda’s voice faded into background static. Kei stared at the email that had just come in. </p><p><em>Name:</em> Kuroo Tetsurou<br/><em>Year:</em> Sophomore<br/><em>Major:</em> Environmental Science<br/><em>Extracurricular:</em> Men’s volleyball, No. 4, middle blocker</p><p>“... and I’m tempted to think this is a sign really, I mean, how wonderful that it’s someone you connected with at training camp your first year of high school?”</p><p>...</p><p>“Tsukishima?”</p><p>...</p><p>“Tsukishima, I’m sorry, did I lose you?”</p><p>----</p><p>In his third year of high school, Kei is recruited by Kuroo's university to play volleyball. A weekend on campus is plenty of time to check out the team, meet the coaches, see a game from the bench... and see if his two-year-old crush on Kuroo has any chance at all.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Another POV switch for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5407289/chapters/12492482">And Yet Here You Are</a></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This particular POV is from Tsukki, so for fun, I decided I'd make [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5890198) part of this AU. So _that_ comes up ;) and I suggest you read it if you're into rated E stuff.

“Hello?”

“Good news!” Takeda could make a ban against dessert sound like good news. “I just got off the phone. Putting the last touches on your recruiting weekend.”

“Thank you very much, sensei.” Kei double-checked a point of English grammar in his homework. He put his phone on speaker and set it on his desk. How did anyone keep the tenses straight between _lie_ and _lay_?

“Well, it’s an easy thing now that we have a couple alums there.” Takeda’s inexhaustible modesty really shouldn’t be such a surprise after three years. “Anyway, your schedule with the team doesn’t start till noon next Saturday. You could get a train in the morning and arrive in plenty of time.”

 _He even checked the train schedules?_ Kei erased his last entry on his worksheet. “That sounds excellent, thank you, sensei.”

“Of course, if you wanted...” Takeda sounded slightly unsure. “You could go up Friday night. The student who will be hosting you has indicated that would be more than fine.”

Kei permitted himself a small frown. “Is that... expected, sensei?”

Takeda was silent for a moment. “Well,” he began slowly, “it _could_ be a good opportunity to meet a few of the players on more informal terms.”

Kei’s frown deepened. An entire Friday night of study gone. “If you think it is important, sensei.”

Takeda’s chuckle said he saw through Kei’s polite agreement. “If you’re offered a scholarship there, you’ll be spending a lot of time with these boys. It never hurts to see your colleagues in a social setting.”

An image sprang to mind of Takeda and Coach Ukai. They’d gotten absolutely shitfaced after Karasuno’s last game. It had been... an enlightening thing to see. “Of course, sensei.”

“And you’re still sure this is your top choice for university, yes?”

Heat prickled the back of Kei’s neck. “Yes, I’m sure.” _Was that too fast? That might have been too fast._

“I don’t blame you.” Takeda didn’t _sound_ like Kei had said anything weird. “Between their volleyball and bioinformatics programs, I think we’d be hard-pressed to find you a better fit.”

“I think so too.” That’s right. This was a logical decision. It made sense.

Kei’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. Perhaps some extra time on campus wouldn’t hurt. He could probably shake off whatever undergrad they’d conned into hosting him. He could walk around campus a little, check out the library, the student center. Might even see—

“So I’ll tell them to expect you Friday night then?” Takeda continued.

“Thank you, sensei. It’s good advice.”

“Excellent.” Takeda sounded pleased. “Your meeting with the team manager isn’t until noon on Saturday — I’ll email you her office number — so you can just head straight to the house you’ll be staying at. Oh, you’ll need the address for that, hang on...”

“A house?” Kei repeated. He put down his pencil. “Don’t freshmen stay in the—”

“Mm, yes.” Rustling paper echoed over the line. “But apparently the men’s volleyball team has been renting a large house for several years now. Ah, here it is! A few underclassmen do stay in the dorms of course, but your host is a second-year. I can email the address to you, or would you prefer to write it down?”

“Email, if you please.” Kei’s throat felt dry. What, _all_ of the upperclassmen stayed in one place?

“Done! Stroke of luck, actually,” Takeda nattered on. “I meant to tell you earlier, but there’s just so much information to get through for things like this. You might recognize the name of the student who volunteered his room...”

Takeda’s voice faded into background static. Kei stared at the email that had just come in.

 _Name: Kuroo Tetsurou_  
_Year: Sophomore_  
Major: Environmental Science  
_Extracurricular: Men’s volleyball, No. 4, middle blocker_

“... and I’m tempted to think this is a sign really, I mean, how wonderful that it’s someone you connected with at training camp your first year of high school?”

...

“Tsukishima?”

...

“Tsukishima, I’m sorry, did I lose you?”

* * *

 

Kei should really be using homeroom to review his last biology quiz. He’d missed two questions on the back, and he still wasn’t very sure why. Instead, he was staring at his phone. It was hidden in his lap under his desk. Like he was a goddamn first-year waiting to get caught.

He ground his molars together. Kuroo had volunteered to host him?! A day later, and Kei’s mind still fought the idea.

 _Why?_ He clenched his phone. They’d spoken at a couple games since Kuroo had graduated — the guy would probably always be a faithful Nekoma fan. He was always there when Karasuno played them. But Kei wasn’t going to add to the crowd _fawning_ over the alum, and Kuroo, frankly, hadn’t seemed to notice.

Which was fine.

Something of a relief, actually.

At least, it was clear the only one feeling awkward after [That One Phone Call](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5890198) was Kei.

He wiped his face with his hand. _You’re not calling. You’re not texting. You have two whole days of school before you leave, can you just..._

“Tsukishima? Did you have a question?”

Kei glanced up over his glasses. The homeroom teacher — as well as every other student in the room — was watching him. She did not look as though she believed that he had a question.

Had he made a noise?

Kei cleared his throat. “No, ma’am.” He slid his phone in his pants pocket and got back to staring sightlessly at his biology quiz.

* * *

 

“You actually said ‘fuck me.’ Kind of loud.” Yamaguchi’s smile was as sunny as ever. “Sorry, Tsukki.”

“I hate it when you say that.” Kei’s retort was automatic these days. “And I did not.”

“I regret to inform you that you totally did.”

“That is not remotely anything that I would say.”

“You say it every time we play video games. You say it every time you attempt to drive.”

“I would never say it in school.” Which, under normal circumstances, was probably true. However… Kei glanced up from his rice and hamburger.

Yamaguchi looked at him sympathetically. “It wasn’t that loud.”

Kei thought about groaning but didn’t. “If the homeroom teacher heard it, it was loud.”

“Oh, come on. If this is the worst thing that happens your last year of high school, please, trade me lives.” Yamaguchi turned his attention back to his lunch.

“Yes, your life is so terrible. Tell me how, how was your date with that third-year? What was his name?”

Yamaguchi smiled around a mouthful of sandwich. “What the hell were you thinking about anyway?”

Kei poked at his rice. “Nothing much. The weekend, I guess.”

Yamaguchi furrowed his brows. “You worried they’re not going to offer you the scholarship? Because… you shouldn’t be worrying about that.”

Kei wasn’t. With the medals and the games won and the invitations to elite training camps, Kei would have to be very unobservant indeed to think he wasn’t good enough for this. If he wanted the scholarship, it was going to be his. Probably. “Takeda-sensei called last night. Some last-minute details about the weekend.”

“... such as?”

“Got an invitation to come out early. Friday night.” Kei shrugged. “Most of the team lives in a house near campus apparently—”

“No way, really?! Aw, man, if you get to check out a house party before I do—”

“They are hardly going to throw a party the night before a _game_.” Kei snorted. “Can you imagine?”

“Well. Okay.” Yamaguchi still sounded disappointed. “So your problem is...? No party, volleyball only. Just gonna be around the team all weekend—” A thought bloomed on his face. “The _whole_ team. In one house. Two. Whole. Nights.” His grin was slow and awful.

Kei leaned away from him. “Yamaguchi, whatever you’re thinking—”

“How long has it been since you talked to him?”

The shitty thing about being pale and blonde was that the entire world knew when you blushed. “Don’t _you_ remember the last time we played Nekoma?” Kei asked, trying for any disdain at all.

Yamaguchi frowned. “That was last year. I thought you guys talked all the time.”

“We have literally never done that.” Except for That One Phone Call, which Yamaguchi didn’t know about, which was as it should be because Kei would rather die.

“Really? Cuz whenever I see you anywhere near him, you’re — uh. I mean...” Yamaguchi faltered in the face of Kei’s sudden and very intense focus.

“I’m _what_ exactly?” Kei inquired icily.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, crushes usually don’t notice a thing unless you tell them.” Yamaguchi paused. “That _was_ supposed to be comforting.”

“I do not,” Kei enunciated, “have a _crush_ on Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Oh. Oh, good. Cool that we were talking about the same guy though.”

Kei glared at him. “He’s my host.” The words fell out of his mouth. “This weekend, he’s the guy who volunteered to host the fucking high-school recruit.”

Yamaguchi blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Kuroo _volunteered_ to babysit me this weekend.” Kei barked a laugh. “Or someone put his name on a form as a joke or _something_ but I have to concentrate this weekend, I have to think about scholarships and impressing a coach, no, a fleet of coaches, and he always _starts_ something, and I—”

Yamaguchi’s mouth was open. Someone could have fit a whole apple in it.

Kei adjusted his glasses. “That’s all I was thinking about.”

“Oh my god.” Yamaguchi’s eyes were huge. “Are you sharing his _room?_ What’re you gonna _do_?”

“I don’t know that I’m sharing his room!” Kei gripped his lunchbox. “It’s a house for an entire volleyball team. I’m sure it’s huge.” He glanced at Yamaguchi, and it was completely not a cry for help.

Yamaguchi sighed. “All right. Here’s what you do.”

Kei sat up straight.

“First—” Yamaguchi looked very serious. “— for this weekend, he’s your teammate. Maintaining the team dynamic is the important thing.”

“Yes. Yeah, of course.”

“If you’re working together on a court, it helps to be sociable off the court. You’ve gotten a lot better at that.”

Kei grimaced.

“And if you don’t have time to buy them online, remember that condoms and lubes are cheapest at konbinis.” Yamaguchi polished off his sandwich in a single bite.

“... You know, your freckles are such a lie.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

* * *

 

Kei held back a smirk as he scooped up another bite of green pepper and pork. Akiteru liked to brag about his studio apartment these days, but somehow his brother still managed to have dinner with them three times a week. Akiteru ate their mom’s cooking like he had no idea how to operate a stove.

 _Probably doesn’t._ Not that Kei was any great hand in the kitchen, but he wasn’t the one bragging about independent living now, was he? He watched Akiteru shovel food into his mouth like someone was going to take it away from him.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

Kei frowned and slipped his hand into his pocket. Yamaguchi wouldn’t text at this hour — dinner at the Tsukishima residence was sacred. Which meant cell phones were generally frowned upon, but... Mom was fussing over Akiteru’s half-empty plate, Dad was reading a paper (Kei never understood why _that_ was allowed but cell phones weren’t)...

Kei kept his phone in his lap and tapped the text. He sucked in a quiet breath.

 _ **Kuroo T.:** yo! this still your number?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** Tsukki? _  
_**Kuroo T.:** Tsssuuukkkiiiiiii_

Kei glanced up. Everyone was still occupied.

 _ **Kuroo T.:** what can you not live two days without? _  
_**Kuroo T.:** foodwise?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** cuz i assume you’re good on like whatever else but hey lemme know_  
_**Kuroo T.:** anyway be at the store for like five more mins_  
_**Kuroo T.:** already got strawberries_

Kei blinked.

 _ **You:** Strawberries?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** oh heeeeyyyyyy!_  
_**You:** Why strawberries in particular?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** don’t know if you’ve heard but im gonna be hosting a recruit for the team this wkd ;)_  
_**You:** Of course I’ve heard_  
_**Kuroo T.:** and i’m gonna be great at it i’ve decided and i heard i need strawberries_  
_**Kuroo T.:** someone said_  
_**You:** Who?_  
_**You:** If you please._  
_**Kuroo T.:** always so polite! anything else you want?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** i got beer and chips _  
_**You:** This is the diet of a college athlete? Beer and chips and strawberries?_  
_**You:** Also who told you I like strawberries?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** now now. the team’s menu at the cafeteria is pretty good actually_  
_**Kuroot T.:** you’ll have all the veggies and lean protein your elite heart desires_

“Kei?”

Kei was impressed with himself. He only jumped a little. “Yes, sir?”

His father eyed him over the top of his glasses. A finger marked his place on the paper’s stock index. “Is there a reason your cell phone is at the table?”

Kei kept his face neutral. “My student host is asking if I have any particular requirements for the weekend. I’ll let him know I can respond later. Sorry, sir.”

“Oh, isn’t that _thoughtful?_ ” His mother stood from the table. She had a small giggle that she seemed to save for moments like this. Kei felt a smile start in his chest, but he didn’t let it get to his mouth. “Hurry it up though — I bought a new type of cake today, and I’m not waiting on volleyball things before I eat it.”

“Cake?” His dad looked up from the paper. “Honey, you brought cake home _last_ week.”

“It is absolutely not my fault that the bakery on my way home puts out new flavors on Thursday.” Her voice was muffled from the kitchen. “Help Akiteru bring in the dishes!”

Grumbles all around, his dad and his brother got to their feet and began clearing the table.

Kei slipped down the hall to his room and tapped open the texts again.

 _ **Kuroo T.:** so you don’t want anything? really? _  
_**Kuroo T.:** hm_  
_**Kuroo T.:** what else_  
_**Kuroo T.:** i’m sure Inari-san already sent you all the stuff you need for observing the game saturday_  
_**Kuroo T.:** did she tell you to bring something to take notes with? _  
_**Kuroo T.:** that was helpful when i had my recruitment wkd_  
_**Kuroo T.:** oh but i guess i have notebooks and stuff_  
_**Kuroo T.:** if you need em_

Kei frowned. Their first communication in months — the last had been an impersonal “Congratulations!” after Karasuno stomped Nekoma in two sets — and Kuroo wanted to ramble about notebooks.

 _ **You:** Inari-san did suggest a notepad. I have a certain type I like, so I’ll come prepared._  
_**You:** Thank you._  
_**Kuroo T.:** you would have a favorite notepad_  
_**Kuroo T.:** oh hey, almost forgot_  
_**You:** some are simply more convenient for taking notes away from a desk than others_  
_**You:** yes?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** the house is having some people over tomorrow night_  
_**Kuroo T.:** might wanna bring something other than gym clothes_

Kei stared at his phone.

 _ **You:** ‘the house’ is having people over? What does that mean?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** in layman’s terms, this is what one calls a party_

Kei’s eyes went wide. No. No, no, no—

 _ **You:** What do you mean, a party? _  
_**You:** You have a GAME the next day_  
_**Kuroo T.:** not till 3_  
_**Kuroo T.:** didn’t Inari-san tell you?_  
_**You:** You. Have. A. Game. The. Next. Day._  
_**Kuroo T.:**..._  
_**Kuroo T.:**_ (〃⌒ー⌒〃)∫  
_**Kuroo T.:** tsukki. you are going to be so much fun._  
_**Kuroo T.:** k, i’m at the checkout, gotta go see you tmw byyyyee!!!_

It took Kei longer than it really should have for him to realize he’d covered his mouth with his hand.

 _Oh. My god._ He felt panic rising up in his gut. _No, no, this will be fine, this is fine, everything is going to be just. Fine._ He stared at his closet. Set his phone down firmly on his desk, walked (calmly) to his closet, threw open the door. Opened the door. Calmly. And totally like normal.

He could handle a college party. Everyone always thought he was much older. He wouldn’t look out of place.

Just a college party.  
The day before a series of interviews, observing a game, impressing potential coaches, potential teammates.  
Intermingled with two nights of sharing a room with Kuroo.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kei screwed his eyes shut, let his head fall back with a groan. He walked back to his phone.

“... Tsukki?” Yamaguchi’s voice conveyed all the surprise warranted by a phone call from a Tsukishima after dinner on a school night.

“You doing anything right after school tomorrow?” Kei pinched the bridge of his nose. “I could use some help packing.”

* * *

 

The cake flavor for this week was apricot. Akiteru had two helpings. Kei managed to eat about half of his portion, his stomach tying itself in knots, before he mumbled something about needing to study. Akiteru talked him into video games instead.

Two hours of video games and no studying. And a party tomorrow night. Kei sighed. He’d have to tell Yamaguchi he’d been right. Yamaguchi would enjoy that, but it wasn’t something Kei was particularly looking forward to.

Kei clicked off his bedside lamp and cradled his head in one arm. He stared at his ceiling, finding something soothing about the dimly glowing stars stuck to it.

_Wonder what Kuroo’s room looks like?_

Kei’s eyes flew open wide. He gritted his teeth, rolled onto his stomach, and pulled his pillow over his head.

* * *

 

“Well.” Yamaguchi ran a hand through his hair. “The black jeans, definitely.”

Kei folded them neatly on the bed. So far, Yamaguchi had shown merciful restraint about totally calling the house party.

“And...” Yamaguchi rifled through the hangers once again. “This one?”

Kei eyed the gray sweater. It had thin blue horizontal stripes. “What about underneath?”

“I dunno. Collared shirt?”

“For a college party?” Kei asked doubtfully. “Seems a little... formal?”

“Yeah.” Yamaguchi put his hands on his hips. “Okay, T-shirt it is. Just make sure the neck doesn’t show.”

“Right.” Sweater and T-shirt went on the bed next to the jeans. “Shoes?”

Yamaguchi fell back on top of the neat pile. “Guhhhh, I am so glad you only have this one outfit to figure out.”

“Hey.” Kei shoved at him to rescue his clothes for the evening. “You’re _wrinkling_ everything.”

“Oh my god.” Yamaguchi threw an arm over his face and stayed put. “You have definitely never worried about clothes before, will you please admit that you are going to try to get into his pants this weekend.”

Kei blamed the heat in his cheeks on the exertion of trying to shove his lanky friend off of a bed he seemed determined to stay on. “I don’t worry about clothes,” he grunted, “because I live in two uniforms and my practice gear. _God._ ”

Yamaguchi finally landed on the floor.

“And I am not interested in anyone else’s clothes, pants or otherwise.” He glared at his friend. “ _Kuroo’s_ or otherwise.”

“Oo, maybe you’ll see him without his shirt on in the lockers!”

Kei stood up straight. He scooped up his clothes with what he hoped was a long-suffering sigh. “I’m done talking to you.”

Yamaguchi’s cackles followed him all the way to the bathroom.

* * *

 

Kei shoved his duffel onto the rack above an out-of-the-way seat toward the back of the car. It would be more than an hour of travel. The less he had to interact with other people, the better.

He settled his headphones over his ears, found an instrumental playlist, and assumed an attitude of unfriendliness. Flicked open his phone and found the text that had stopped his heart earlier that morning.

_**Kuroo T.:** hey what time does your train get in?_

Kei’s phone had vibrated in the middle of chemistry. His teacher had asked if he was having a bad reaction to the fumes. “You look a little dazed.”

Kei had mumbled something in the way of “no, sir” and put his phone away discreetly. His train would be getting in at 5:06 p.m. This was not a difficult question to answer.

As the train pulled away from the station, Kei still hadn’t replied.

Kei hadn’t even told Yamaguchi about it. Yamaguchi would have goaded him into replying or, worse, replied for him. And there was no _point_ in a reply, as far as Kei could see. Other than good manners, of course, but whatever, if Kuroo really wanted to know, train schedules were easy to look up. There were exactly three express runs between the two cities today. One was too early, the other too late. Kuroo was a smart man. He could figure it out if he wanted to.

But if Kei wasn’t the one to tell him... he leaned his head back against the window with a sigh. Then at least it would be harder to pretend that someone would be waiting for him at 5:06 p.m.


	2. Chapter 2

Kei felt the train slow for the station. Other passengers stood, already grabbing their bags. He took a deep breath and pulled up the address of the volleyball team’s house. A fifteen-minute walk, hopefully not in the rain.

 _Whatever._ He’d see himself there (because Kuroo was not going to be at the station waiting for him), find his room (probably Kuroo’s. But if it wasn’t Kuroo’s that would be fine. Better even), and then he’d...

The train ground to a halt, and passengers shoved each other out the doors.

Kei let himself be pushed along until he was past the platform gates. Then he stepped to the side of the crowd and took his time reading the signs. Getting his bearings. Giving anyone with shaggy black bedhead a second glance...

He fidgeted with his headphones, shifted his bag on his shoulder, double-checked the map on his phone. If he just walked out those doors over _there_ , he’d come out onto a roundabout, and then the first left would take him straight to...

_He’s not coming. He’s not here, he’s not coming, you are being ridiculous. Get to campus on your own, you’re not a kid._

Hands in his pockets, Kei marched out into the late afternoon gloom.

A few street vendors were setting up shop despite the threatening clouds, anticipating the salarymen leaving their offices hungry. Hot oil smelled of crisp fish through the curtains of the pubs opening for dinner. Kei’s stomach growled.

He wound through city streets, following his map. Salarymen gave way to a younger, painfully college-age crowd. Kei watched them as they roved around in pairs and small groups, with their computer bags and backpacks and trendy clothes.

At least he was definitely going in the right direction.

A tall blonde girl was locking up her apartment on the balcony above the street. A short brunette stood on tiptoe to kiss her boyfriend under an umbrella over there. Two chubby young men with glasses sat on a bench, closer than strictly necessary to argue about their chemistry notes. Professors with gray hair and stress wrinkles walked with purpose, hurrying to pubs or homes or whatever their lives were outside of their students.

Kei’s phone vibrated, and he paused to check his map. _It should be right here..._ He glanced to his left.

Ivy ate at a tall, crumbling wall. The address plate had lost half its screws and hung at an angle. Weeds populated the inhospitable crack between the wall and the sidewalk.

 _You have got. To be kidding me._ Kei reached for the wooden gate, half again as tall as he was. Locked. _Do they have this to keep people out or the volleyball team in?_ Kei shifted his bag from one shoulder to the next. There wasn’t a buzzer that he could see. _Probably broken like everything else._

“Lost?” a deep voice rumbled behind him.

Kei turned smoothly, clutching his phone and keeping any alarm off his face. “Actually, I’m looking for—”

Aone Takanobu stood uncomfortably close. He was dressed in street clothes and had a heavy canvas bag over one shoulder, but Kei didn’t need the old Date Tech uniform to identify the blonde giant. Piercing brown eyes watched him, unblinking.

Kei took a small step backward. “Actually, I’m looking for Kuroo-san. Kuroo Tetsurou?” As though there were any chance Aone didn’t know his own college teammate. Kei stood at his full height, managing to get a couple centimeters on the man. “I’m here on a recruitment weekend for the team...”

Aone bowed, a gesture made more formal thanks to his stoic face. “Tsukishima. Hello.” He unlocked the gate. “He told us.”

“He... he told you?” Kei followed Aone into a poorly kept Japanese-style garden. Kei raised an eyebrow. The three-story house wasn’t quite as bad, but it was a close-run thing. None of the windows were broken, for example, but the paint was gray and peeling. _This_ was the house the volleyball team had rented for years?

Aone veered off to walk around the building.

Kei grimaced at the weeds soaking his boots. He’d worn them exactly twice before. “Aone? Aren’t we going inside?” The sweater Yamaguchi had picked out was definitely overkill.

The backyard was in somewhat better shape than the front. The lawn was cut neatly, and a few chairs were arranged underneath an ancient wisteria despite the damp weather. A few lanky boys lounged in them, heads bowed over books.

One of the heads had shaggy dark hair that looked like its owner had never won a pillow fight in his life. Kei’s heart slammed into his ribs.

Aone walked up behind the chair, unconcerned with the condition of Kei’s heart. “Kuroo-san.”

“Aone!” Kuroo twisted his neck just enough to see his teammate. “You back already? What’d you get?”

Aone swung his canvas bag off his shoulder and opened it wordlessly.

“Zinfandel? Dude, nobody’s gonna drink that but you.”

“They are missing out. This is a good year.”

Kuroo laughed, and Kei wanted... well, he wanted to walk straight back to the train station, is what he wanted. Two days of that laugh? No way in hell—

“I ordered a case of the grapefruit beer that Oikawa-san likes,” Aone rumbled on. “And a twelve-pack of Daishou’s favorite.”

Kuroo grimaced. “That nitrogen crap? That stuff is shit. And fucking expensive.”

“They were not chilled, so the shop will send them around nine.”

“Aone, man... we have coolers. The guys inside are getting them—”

“A cooler of ice is not a proper method for chilling warm alcohol,” Aone interrupted, matter-of-fact as ever.

“Aha.” Kuroo grinned, and Kei recognized it. It was a grin that suggested that everyone else in the world overthought everything, but Kuroo already knew everything, so he—

“And your guest is here.” Aone beckoned at Kei.

“My guest...?” Kuroo turned around in his seat. His mouth fell open.

In a way, Kei was relieved that he had some kind of reaction at least. After all, Kei was standing in his backyard, trying not to look like he was sweating bullets in his stupidly preppy outfit. However — Kei indulged a flash of irritation — an expression other than _total surprise_ would have been welcome.

“No.” Kuroo jammed his hand in his jeans pocket. “No, no, _nonono..._ ” His pants were too tight to get his phone out easily. Not that Kei noticed. “How—? Fuck! It’s 5:30?! How... Kawatabi! Did my alarm go off when I was filling coolers?”

A guy with long brown hair pulled out an earbud. “Huh?” A stack of textbooks next to his lawn chair served as a table for a sweating beer can.

“Goddammit,” Kuroo growled. He stood, tossing his book onto his seat.

“I have to aerate the wine.” Aone backed away with a bow. “Welcome, Tsukishima.”

Kei watched him leave. Mainly because looking at Kuroo was... well. Kei gripped the strap of his bag and risked a glance. Kuroo was leaning against the back of his chair, in stupid-tight jeans and a black T-shirt that was too small. His feet were bare. A ridiculous choice.

Kuroo cocked his head, his self-assured grin back in place. “Well. Wish I could say you’re early, but as it turns out, you get full points for punctuality.”

Kei kept his face neutral. “Sorry to intrude.”

Kuroo’s laugh was soft. “Still so formal, Tsukki.”

“Tsukishima,” Kei choked.

“Uh huh.” Kuroo glanced from Kei’s boots to the collar of his striped sweater. “You look formal too.”

Kei caught himself just in time to avoid an indignant splutter. “Did you or did you not tell me to wear something other than practice gear for your little house party tonight?” _I knew it, goddammit, this is the WORST, I have got to—_

“Well, you’re certainly giving me a standard to live up to.” Kuroo pushed away from the chair and scooped up his notes. He flashed a grin and grabbed Kei’s bag before he could protest. “C’mon, lemme show you my room, and I’ll change.”

As he followed Kuroo into the house, Kei could almost hear Yamaguchi snickering in his head.

* * *

 

Kei was not going to sit on Kuroo’s bed. It was not going to happen. Not even when Kuroo threw Kei’s bag onto the bed, a clear invitation, and started rummaging around in a closet for a fresh button-down.

Kuroo nattered on, oblivious to the fact that the bedroom seemed to be wrapping around Kei’s chest and squeezing. Something about how Kuroo had meant to be at the station, did Kei find the house okay, was he nervous about meeting the coaches, tomorrow’s game should be fun to watch, and on and on and on, and...

Kei was finding it just a bit difficult to give coherent answers. All he really seemed to be able to focus on was the unfair fact that Kuroo Tetsurou’s bedroom did not smell like the average guy’s bedroom, that is to say, misused socks.

It was obvious that only Kuroo used this room. There was no separation of belongings, no marked change in the relative tidiness, no obviously different aesthetic. Kei’s mind spun, trying to decide if that meant it was more or less likely that they’d be sharing the room for the next two nights.

“Tsukki.”

Kei yanked his attention away from the bed. Kuroo was holding up a plaid shirt and a black henley. “I was thinking these two together, yeah?”

“Do you always wear black?” Kei asked roughly.

Kuroo glanced at his closet, then laughed. He tossed the plaid onto the bed. “Enough, I guess.” He reached behind his head for his T-shirt and yanked.

Where... were you supposed to _look_? Kei frantically tried to recall how he acted in the Karasuno locker room. Shirtless guys were the least of what he saw on a regular basis, and arguably all of them were as built as Kuroo.

Kei watched out of the corner of his eye. Surely Kageyama looked like that. Hinata too, if he would ever grow.

Kuroo reached for the plaid shirt and caught Kei’s eye.

“Where should I put my bag?” Kei blurted. _Don’t look at me, don’t look at me._

“Um?” Kuroo glanced around the room. “Anywhere? Leave it there if you want. You get the bed while you’re here.”

Kei made a strangled sound. “I’m not sleeping in your bed.”

“Oh, no worries, man, I changed the sheets.” Kuroo finished buttoning his shirt and knelt to drag a pair of combat boots from underneath the bed.

Kei wiped a hand over his face. “I don’t want to put you out,” he tried.

“You kidding? I have to try out this ultra deluxe futon my grandma gave me for my birthday.” Kuroo wrapped the laces of his boots around his ankles and stood with a grin. “Didn’t have the heart to tell her I’ve got a twin bed.”

“ _I_ can use the futon...”

“What? Fuck that. I gotta give her my personal review.” Kuroo frowned. “Unless... um.”

Kei’s lungs seized. “Unless...?” His voice was higher than usual.

“Tsukki, listen, I...” Kuroo sounded unsure. “Is there any way...”

 _Oh my god, there’s no way two of us could fit in a twin, right? Will you calm the fuck down, he’s not going to ask to_ sleep with you _, he’s probably just—_

“Do you not want the bed?” Kuroo asked. “I mean, _I_ don’t think it’s weird to sleep in another dude’s bed, but if you have a problem with it—”

“No! No.” Kei cleared his throat. “No, that’s... excuse me, Kuroo-san.” He bowed. “It was not my intention to be rude. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Kei lifted his head to find Kuroo watching him with an expression he was too familiar with. It was that quiet, knowing grin Kuroo had sometimes at training camps. Kei hated it. He squared his shoulders and forced himself not to look away. Kuroo’s grin widened.

_gggrrrrgglll_

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, and Kei wondered why floors were never thoughtful enough to swallow someone whole. “Hungry?” Kuroo asked, stating the painfully obvious.

“It’s been a long day,” Kei said stiffly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back before—”

“Oh, no no no.” Kuroo closed the distance between them. His arm was around Kei’s shoulders before he could gasp. “You’re my recruit! Food and shelter, the works, they’re on me this weekend. Let’s go.”

“Go?” Kei tried to keep his voice level. Kuroo’s arm was hot around Kei’s neck. “If you have things to do for the party, Kuroo-san, I can take care of myself—”

“My job starts when the party begins.” Kuroo winked as he opened the bedroom door.

“That is a terrible line.” But Kei let himself be led out into the hall and down the stairs.

“Kuroo!” The guy with the headphones from the backyard — _Kawatabi?_ — was rummaging in a cabinet as they passed by the kitchen. “You going out?”

“Duty calls.” Kuroo slapped Kei on the back. “Gotta feed the recruit.”

 _The recruit. The high-school recruit. Here on a recruiting weekend._ It was almost enough for Kei to miss hearing ‘Tsukki.’ Almost.

“Could you pick up raspberry liqueur? Looks like we don’t have any.”

“Raspberry—” Kuroo echoed in disbelief. “Why would we? Why would anyone?”

Kawatabi closed the kitchen cabinets carefully, not looking at him. “Found a cocktail online I wanna try.”

Kuroo grabbed a pair of keys from a dish by the door. “Really? I’ve only ever seen you drink beer — oh. _Ohhhh._ ” His face was lecherous. “I get it.”

Kawatabi’s head jerked up, and his face was pink. “Sh- _shut up!_ Just... I’ll pay you back, all right?”

“No, no, no.” Kuroo waved a magnanimous hand. “It’s on me.” He nudged Kei out the front door. “ _If_ you finally ask her out tonight.” Kawatabi’s indignant squawk was muffled as Kuroo quickly shut the door.

Kei watched Kuroo chuckle to himself and make a note in his phone: _Raspberry liqur (sp?)_.

The gate opened as Kuroo reached a hand for it, and a tall boy dressed in the university’s practice gear walked through.

Kei bit back a snarl. He was a bit taller now, but Kei would recognize those snake-like eyes anywhere. Daishou Suguru, former captain of Nohebi Academy and all-around con artist. Karasuno hadn’t played them often, but Kei still remembered the unpleasant shock of discovering that Daishou would be his teammate in college. His _potential_ teammate at his _prospective_ college.

“Oh.” Daishou caught the gate before it swung shut. “Um. You leaving?”

“Just dinner.” Kuroo was only a fraction more formal than he’d been with Kawatabi. “Back in plenty of time.”

Daishou relaxed visibly. “Good. Good. So. Um.” He was doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t blocking them from leaving the yard.

Kuroo put a reassuring hand on Daishou’s shoulder and gently moved him to one side. “I promised I’d introduce you, and I will. She’ll be here tonight. But I gotta warn ya.” He ushered Kei out the gate. “I’m pretty sure she’s into someone right now.”

Daishou blushed to the tips of his ears. “You just give me a chance to say hi. That’s all I need.” He shouldered his gym bag and stalked up the porch steps.

“So. He’ll have a hangover tomorrow.” Kuroo let the gate latch behind them. “Daishou has a thing for one of the spikers on the women’s team. I don’t think she’s gonna go for it, but.” He shrugged. “How’s udon sound?”

“Um. Fine, thank you.” Kei matched Kuroo’s stride well, and he glanced at the shaggy dark head next to him. He’d been taller than Kuroo since he was a first-year, and now that he’d officially hit two meters, Kei had him by several centimeters. Not enough to make their walking pace much different, but enough that Kuroo would have to—

Sharp brown eyes looked up at him quickly.

“Do you often give your teammates advice about women, Kuroo-san?” Kei asked quickly.

Kuroo’s laugh sounded surprised. “Kawatabi has a crush he’s done absolutely nothing about all semester, and Daishou is just... generally hopeless.” He waved a hand. “I try to make sure the girls in question don’t suffer as a result of their attention.”

“You are an expert in what makes girls not suffer?” _What the fuck kind of question is that, are you serious?_ Kei focused on the sidewalk in front of them, but he could feel Kuroo looking at him.

“Not so much.” Kuroo’s voice was light. “I think you can usually tell what’ll make people happy or not if you pay attention, though. For example, you _—_ ”

 _Dear god._ Kei swallowed softly.

“— will be pleased to know you only have to walk about seven more minutes before you’ll be eating the best udon in town.”

“... oh.”

“Well, I say the best.” Kuroo ran a hand through his hair. “But it’s close, and it’s edible.”

* * *

 

The udon was not the best. At least, Kei certainly hoped it wasn’t. His mother made better udon. Kuroo did not seem put off in the slightest.

“You know,” Kuroo was saying, seated next to him at the small bar, “when I heard Coach rattle off the list of kids coming for recruitment weekends, I was only half listening. And then, no big deal, all casual, ‘Tsukishima Kei, Karasuno High.’ Mind _blown_ , I had no idea you were thinking of coming here!”

Kei’s throat closed up. _Say something about the team. Talk about how the coaches have great track records. The science program is competitive. You have alums here! Anything!_ “Thank you again for your hospitality, Kuroo-san.” _Or, you know. That._

“Um... sure.” Kuroo rallied after a pause. “What I can’t understand is how I didn’t know. Noya didn’t say anything! And I run into Azumane all the time, not that he’s the most talkative guy around.”

Kei poked at his noodles with his chopsticks. The broth was separating. “I didn’t wish to disturb their studies. My advisor has been kind enough to help me investigate various universities without needing to bother my old teammates.”

“Wait, what?” Kuroo frowned. “You’re still looking at other places?”

 _No._ “There are a number of attractive options. Most of them in Japan.”

Kuroo blinked. “‘Most?’ Are you thinking of studying _abroad_?”

 _No._ “One American university sent my advisor a letter.”

Kuroo’s mouth was open a little. “Which American university.”

“I can’t recall. Somewhere called Texas, I think.” Kei had spent an enlightening Saturday researching Texas. After several hours, he’d worked himself into a tidy little bout of anxiety.

Kuroo sat back on his stool. “Wow. I had no idea you were... um. Well, _wow._ ” He grinned brightly. “But I guess the coaches know all about the other places you’re considering.”

Kei shrugged. Takeda had made sure of that. _“Even if you know this is where you want to go, it doesn’t hurt to make sure their offer is the best it can be.”_

“Well. Good to know I gotta break out the hard sell.” Kuroo gestured to one of the cooks behind the bar. “Can I get the bill please?”

Kei concentrated on counting a few coins from his wallet. “That’s up to your recruiter, isn’t it? Here.”

Kuroo held the bill away and glared at him. “ _And_ me! What’s the point of being a host if you’re not up for courting the talent? Put that away, don’t be rude.”

“Paying my own way is hardly rude.” _Courting the talent?_ Kei could feel his face getting red. He busied himself putting away his cash.

“I’m going to be an amazing host this weekend,” Kuroo asserted as he paid the bill. “I’ve already told everyone. You go around saying I’m making you buy your own meals, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I thought hosts just had to make sure recruits didn’t get lost or die.”

“Well,” Kuroo scoffed, “that may be the sort of impersonal service you’d get at an _American_ university. Do you think they’d have raspberry liqueur at a konbini?”

* * *

 

“No, I’m not real busy. Just studying. What’s up?”

Kei settled his shoulders more comfortably into the brick wall. “Hour two, and I’m already waiting for him outside a liquor store.”

“Oh?” Yamaguchi’s voice was devoid of innocence. “Hanging out with Kuroo-san, huh? A _looonne_?”

“Shut up. He’s looking for something specific, and I said I had to make a phone call.”

“Oh, I recognize that tone.” Yamaguchi gave an exaggerated sigh. “What do you need help with, Tsukki?”

Kei put a hand to his forehead. “He’s, like, the _dad_ of the volleyball team! Everyone wants his help, everyone asks his advice... he’s in there right now helping someone pick out a beer because they want to hook up with one of the guys on the team! ‘Oh, he likes _this_ beer, bring that tonight, blah blah blah.’”

“... and you are outside talking to me about it, as opposed to being inside learning what Kuroo-san likes to drink, because why?”

“And he’s all into this idea of being ‘the perfect host,’” Kei went on. “He bought my _dinner_. It was terrible but still. Made some comment about courting the talent!”

Yamaguchi’s silence lingered.

“Hello?” Kei tried.

“Tsukki. Tsukishima.” Yamaguchi sounded world-weary.

“I’m right here,” Kei huffed.

“Maybe. Just _maybe_ you should consider accepting his idea of hosting. Graciously.”

“I wasn’t rude about it.”

“There are, after all, so many worse things in the world than a hot young athlete determined to be your daddy.”

Kei clamped his mouth shut.

“Hello?” Yamaguchi teased.

“That’s...” Kei felt a bit breathless. “That’s not what... is that...?”

“Heeey, Tsukki! You ready? Oh, whoa, did I scare you?”

Kei nearly dropped his phone. Kuroo stared back at him, the sliding door of the liquor store still chiming. Kei stood away from the wall. “Not at all. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Kuroo held up a plastic bag. “You would not believe how expensive this shit is.”

“I probably wouldn’t. Pardon me, I’m nearly finished.” Kei put his phone back to his ear. “Yamaguchi?”

“Tsukki. Stop talking to him like he’s a goddamn professor. Promise me that much, and I’ll let you go.”

Kei felt his face get hot. “Good luck with your studies, Yamaguchi. Have a good night.”

“Yamaguchi?” Kuroo repeated as Kei slid his phone into his back pocket. “He still got that mean floating serve?”

Kei permitted himself a proud smile. “It’s quite brutal. I keep telling him he’s an idiot for not trying to play in college.”

“Yes, that’s usually a good way of getting people to do things.” Kuroo started walking.

Kei frowned and caught up in two strides. “You know what I meant.”

“Has he mentioned why he doesn’t want to?” Kuroo dug a small bottle out of the plastic bag and inspected it as they walked. “Also, I’ve decided. Kawatabi is paying for this whether or not he gets the balls together to ask Fumi out. Coulda bought four twelve-packs for this.”

“He just says he doesn’t think it’s worth looking into.” Kei hoped he didn’t sound like he was pouting. Because he wasn’t. “He’s been like that since the beginning of this year.”

Kuroo glanced at him. “Did he ever say he was interested in college volleyball?”

An image from their first year at Karasuno sprang to mind. Yamaguchi had taken him by the collar at a training camp and shook him. _Shook_ him! Kei! He’d shouted about being the best and having pride and trying hard. “He could’ve fooled me,” Kei said coolly.

“So this is... new?”

When the first scout had come around to talk to Takeda and Coach Ukai after a game earlier this season, Yamaguchi hadn’t batted an eye when it was for Kei. In fact, as happy as he’d been, you would have thought _Yamaguchi_ had been the one scouted. Kei had felt like shouting at him to stand up for himself, he was good too, dammit.

Instead, Kei had sneered the usual, “Shut up, Yamaguchi,” and Yamaguchi had followed through with “Sorry, Tsukki” plus eye roll. And since then, Yamaguchi had neatly deflected every last one of Kei’s hints that Yamaguchi should put in a little legwork for a volleyball scholarship of his own.

“That is quite a face,” Kuroo observed, digging out his keys.

“Do you have a lot to do yet for your party tonight, Kuroo-san?” Kei kept his eyes forward and walked as tall as he could.

Kuroo gave a mock gasp. “Tsukki! Are you volunteering?!”

Kei shot him a wan little smile. “I was thinking I could stay out of your way and get some studying done. Is there a quiet common area in the house, or will you be needing your room in the near future?”

Kuroo looked at him flatly before he unlocked the gate to the house. “And the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

* * *

 

Kuroo’s room was on the backside of the three-story house. It was roughly the size of a postage stamp, but it had a decent window that overlooked the backyard. Kei arranged his study material on the desk that sat at the window.

Kei appreciated tidy people, and Kuroo’s room whispered that its owner might be one of them. The desk was ready for study, the bed was made, and the only chair in the room just had one jacket draped over the back. Nice.

 _Are you done?_ Kei shook his head and glared at his notebooks. He’d brought his chemistry notes — he had a test on Monday — and then he’d brought The Folder. He shoved chemistry to the side and took a yellow highlighter from his bag.

Takeda had given him The Folder near the end of his second year. _“Here,”_ his mentor had said, _“just a couple things I’ve collected from a few universities.”_ Kei had glanced through it in a fit of boredom after supper that night. Takeda had penciled in names on a few of the pamphlets.

_“Oikawa Tooru, No. 1, Seijou. Rumored to be the starting setter here next year.”_

_“Hinata is thinking hard about this one, I know!”_

_“Nishinoya has already received multiple scouts from here, but I think he’s strongly considering...”_

_“Bokuto Koutarou, No. 4, Fukuroudani. Made starter this year.”_

_“Kuroo Tetsurou, No. 1, Nekoma. Starting middle blocker.”_

That night, Kei had taped the pamphlet with Kuroo’s penciled name to the inside of The Folder. Of course, the pamphlet had Oikawa’s and Nishinoya’s names on it as well. That certainly mattered. Clearly, it was a good program. Today, The Folder was filled with stats. Notes he’d taken from games that had been televised. Observations of the coaching styles. A workout regime online that the team had supposedly followed a couple years ago. And so on.

Inari-san, the executive assistant to the university’s coaching staff, had told Kei via email that he would be encouraged, but not expected, to keep stats as he observed the game on Saturday. Kei knew that “not expected to” meant “we’ll be watching to see if you do,” so he’d come prepared with his stats book. It already had numbers from this season’s games so far.

Kei flipped it open. It was dog-eared and discolored, a testament to Kei’s penchant for watching games with a bowl of edamame and light-sodium soy sauce.

Eight blocks. Two kills. Five one-touches. One out.

Six blocks. Five kills. One out.

Ten blocks. Three kills. Three one-touches. Four outs.

Five blocks—

“OI! You’re supposed to be knocking the spider web down on the _front porch_ , you tool!”

Kei’s head snapped up. Kuroo was standing in the backyard, a couple of lawn chairs under each arm. Shaggy black hair was flattened and sopping. The flannel shirt was soaked from neck to waist. He was glaring at someone Kei couldn’t see around the side of the house.

“Fuck you, my hair is the envy of the campus,” Kuroo yelled in response to some insult or other. He made the ill-advised decision to turn his back on his assailant and begin to set up the chairs.

Kei propped his chin in his hand.

A blast from an unseen hose ensured that the back of Kuroo’s shirt resembled its front. Kuroo’s shoulders shot up to his ears, accompanied by a very satisfying screech.

“All right, that’s _it_ , motherfucker!” Kuroo tugged at one sleeve of the button-down and then the other, peeling the soaked fabric off his arms. The black henley underneath hadn’t fared much better. It clung like so much goth-inspired tissue.

The plaid shirt landed on the back of a chair, and Kuroo launched himself at his attacker, cackling. Kei stood and leaned over the desk as Kuroo disappeared around the house. The window wasn’t quite enough to muffle the shrieks and bellows.

Drenched from head to toe, Kuroo darted back into view. He flourished the hose with a triumphant yell and spun around to take aim. “Says me and the hose you just assaulted me with! _Say goodbye, asshole!_ Hey, wait! Oh no, _I am not hosing off the front porch, you said you’d do it, get back here!_ ”

Kei snickered and watched as Kuroo put his hands on his hips in disgust. Tanned fingers rested at the waistband of drenched jeans. The henley wasn’t really long enough. Well, Kei knew what that was like. Tall people problems. It was too easy for shirts to show a bit more than you bargained for if you moved wrong...

Of course, Kei knew for a fact his shirts didn’t show obliques like that. They showed a smattering of freckles that made him feel like his body hadn’t done much past middle school. Oh, Kei was _taller_ now, of course, but he doubted he’d ever be able to sustain muscle like that.

Kuroo ran both hands through wet hair with an irritated groan. _Triceps_ , Kei noted. _Deltoids. Biceps. More obliques._ Kuroo’s hair was still a far cry from standing straight up again, but it threatened the possibility in the near future.

Brown eyes looked up suddenly, and Kei resisted the urge to straighten and shove away from the desk. Kuroo grinned hugely and held up the hose. “Tsukkiiiii! You should see the other guy!” he yelled.

Really, college students were just high schoolers without adults around. Kei offered a slow thumbs-up so as not to be entirely rude and made a show of settling back down at the desk.

When Kei looked back out the window — just a glance — Kuroo was arranging the lawn chairs, still wearing his soaked shirt and jeans. To no great surprise, his underwear appeared to be black.

 _Oh my god._ Kei quickly dropped his gaze to his lap. _You are studying. Who knows what this house will be like when the party starts. This’ll be the last chance you get until you go back home. Right._

Kei inhaled deeply and focused on the stats book in front of him. And frowned.

All of the stats he’d highlighted so far were Kuroo’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am APPALLED it took me a month to get chapter 2 out there. I have started chapter 3, so fingers crossed there. Anyway. Bit of a slow build here. Mainly because, as I got more into this chapter, it hit me that I don't have quite the handle on Kuroo's character that I thought I did. He's proving to be a challenge for me, the motherfucker.


	3. Chapter 3

Someone had started the music. Kei didn’t notice until he caught himself bobbing his head to the beat. He looked up from his notes and blinked into the dimness of the room. When had it gotten dark?

“Yo, Tsukki, can I come in?” A knock sounded at the door.

Kei’s heart picked up the pace. “It’s your room, Kuroo-san. Of course.” He pretended to keep examining his notes, but a streetlamp in the back alley was an abysmal light source.

“Yeah, well.” The door opened, and bare feet shuffled into the room behind him. “You been in here for hours. Wasn’t sure if you were asleep.”

Kei turned around, indignant. “I have been _studying—_ ”

Damn, but the room was small. Kuroo was leaning over him, checking out the study material strewn over the desk. “Do you color-coordinate your notes?” Kuroo asked in awe.

Kei had wasted an hour highlighting the stats of each player in a separate color after he’d realized he’d singled out Kuroo’s numbers. He’d had to get creative with only a six-pack of highlighters. “Excuse me, will you—” Kei planted a hand against Kuroo’s chest, prepared to shove him away. “Are you... still wet?”

Kuroo shrugged and backed off. Kei remembered to put down his hand. “Knew you wanted to study,” Kuroo said, turning to open a chest of drawers. “Which, do you usually study in the dark?” He flicked on the light.

“I lost track of time,” Kei insisted, shielding his eyes. “And you didn’t have to walk around in wet clothes for the last...”

The black henley landed on the bedroom floor with a damp smack.

“... I mean, I certainly could have...” Kei tried again.

Kuroo unzipped his jeans and tugged. Wet jeans, especially ones so tight, would be a nightmare to get off.

Kuroo swore under his breath. Getting the jeans below his ass (he did indeed have black underwear. Boxer briefs), he sat heavily on the bed and continued to wrestle with wet denim. “Not a problem,” he said through gritted teeth. “Had... shit to... do. _Fuck_.” One leg came free. “But a couple girls from the soccer team are here, which means I gotta run interference soon.”

Kei rested an arm on the back of the desk chair. “You really meant it when you said your job starts when the party does.”

Kuroo glanced up from struggling with bunched-up denim at his ankle. “I _never_ joke, Tsukki.”

“Except when you always do.”

Kuroo laughed and got to his feet, free at last of his wet clothes. (Not entirely. Kei sincerely hoped the underwear would be staying on, this was already _ridiculous._ ) He stood in front of his closet in a thoughtful pose.

Kei turned back to his notes in what he believed to be a controlled manner.

“Noya and Azumane should be here tonight,” Kuroo said conversationally. “Not sure about Oikawa. He and Iwaizumi will be late if they show. But I can introduce you to a lot of the guys on the team tonight.”

Clothing rustled. Kei kept his eyes glued to the desk. “Thank you, Kuroo-san.”

“Lots of girls too, of course. Mostly from the women’s teams, but there’s all types at these things.”

“Mm.” _Good lord, isn’t he done changing yet?_

“Now, I hate to be a total dad—”

Kei’s shoulders shot up to his ears.

“—but you get that you can’t go home with anyone tonight, right?”

Kei spun the desk chair around. Goddammit, the man still didn’t have a shirt on. At least he’d managed to find a fresh pair of pants, so thank heaven for small miracles. “Excuse me?” Kei managed.

“I mean, if you want a couple phone numbers, they’re yours to take I’m sure. But Coach would kill me if I let a recruit—”

“What do you think I’m here to _do_ , Kuroo-san?” Kei stood from the desk, fighting back indignation.

“Look, I’m not saying you’re planning on anything, but some of the kids coming here tonight’ll take one look at you and—”

“I am here for volleyball.” _Not your party. Or your water fights! Or your fifty changes of clothes a day! In front of me!_ “I plan to meet a prominent coaching staff tomorrow, after which I have been invited to sit on a team bench and observe a game from a valuable advantage.”

Kei wanted to leave. It was too close in here. Head high, he went to the door. _Really? You’re just gonna walk out on him?_ “However,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. “If Kuroo-san is able to offer advice on something other than girls, I’m sure I would learn a lot.”

Kuroo stared at him. His wide eyes dropped to Kei’s black jeans and back up to his face in half a heartbeat. “Oh my god.”

Kei frowned. “What about him?”

Kuroo shook his head once, briefly. “You going down? Just — hang on, lemme find a shirt, just—” He waved a hand as he turned back to his closet. “Chill for half a minute, I’ll go with you, hang on!”

Kei groaned but, dammit, he stayed.

* * *

 

Under normal circumstances, Kei did not require great concentration to make it down a flight of stairs without falling. However, Kuroo was not normal circumstances.

What Kuroo was, was clingy.

Kei bore up magnificently as Kuroo guided him with a hand on his shoulder, down the stairs and into a kitchen laden with booze. Several tall young men were holding their first beers and examining bottles of stronger stuff as though they knew anything about them. The front door, just visible from the kitchen, was opening and closing practically to the beat of the music that wound through the house.

“What’s your pleasure, Tsukki?” Kuroo raised his voice. “You drink much?”

Kei did not drink much. Beer was inferior to soda, and if it came down to that, he’d much rather have a sports drink anyway. “Some,” he said. He glanced over the larger bottles. Sake, whiskey, shochu... and yes, there was Aone’s bottle of zin. Perhaps that would be better than beer?

“Uh huh.” Kuroo handed him a sweating can. “Maybe start with this.”

Good heavens, it was enormous. Half again as tall as a soda can! How did anyone drink this much liquid outside of a meal? Or athletics?

“That’s one of Oikawa’s grapefruit beers. Pretty light.”

“I don’t need a light beer.” Kei wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Was that all it took for machismo to take over? An evening in a frat house?

“Sure, sure.” Kuroo patted his shoulder. “I just figured, since the coaches and the game and everything tomorrow are all so important to you — as they should be — you might want to go slow to start. See if you felt like more.”

Kei eyed Kuroo sharply, but Kuroo only grabbed an identical can for himself.

“Where is Oikawa-san?” Kei asked over the music. “I haven’t seen him at the house, I don’t believe.”

“Ah.” Kuroo popped the tab on his beer. “Never know when he’s gonna show up. Man of mystery.”

“He’s over at Iwaizumi’s more likely than not.” A slim young man with smooth brown hair looked up from inspecting the coolers. “We might see him if Iwaizumi makes them leave his apartment.” He took a sip of his own beer and barely managed to not make a face. Kei hoped the one Kuroo picked out was better.

“Well, it’s not a mystery if you go and blab to everyone, Numajiri!” Kuroo scolded. “This is Tsukishima, by the way.”

“I assumed.” Numajiri nodded politely. “You’re the only ‘heinously tall blonde’ in the house.”

Kuroo grimaced. “Yeah, that thing I said about blabbing to everyone?”

“Heinously tall.” Kei looked at Kuroo flatly. “I admit that one is new.”

“When I saw your height on the stats sheet Coach sent me, I had to find fresh vocabulary,” Kuroo defended himself.

“And you found ‘heinous,’” Kei said.

“My thesaurus failed me that day.”

“Since when does Kuroo Tetsurou need a thesaurus?” A short dark-haired girl appeared from behind Numajiri. She had the compact, controlled presence of a natural athlete. “I thought the entire Japanese language was at your beck and call.”

“Hori!” Kuroo cheered. “Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight! You not starting tomorrow?”

Hori shrugged. “I suppose there’s a first for everything. Point me to the good beer before it’s gone.”

A bottle appeared over her shoulder instantly, held by a slightly taller brunette. “Oi.” The girl kept the bottle out of Hori’s grasp. “Did you eat before you came over? I’m not carrying your ass out of here.”

Hori grabbed the bottle. “Had two bowls of cereal. Gimme.” She caught Kei’s eye as she opened the bottle with her bare hands. “Hello, hello, you’re new. Saeki.” She jabbed a thumb at the girl next to her and then at herself. “Hori. And you are?”

“Tsukishima. Pleased to meet you.” He inclined his head.

“Hori’s a midfielder,” Kuroo supplied. “Saeki is a forward. And apparently Hori’s caregiver.” He raised an eyebrow at the short woman. “Two bowls of cereal, really? That’s what the soccer team eats the night before a morning game?”

“We’re not actually here.” Hori glared at him over her beer. “And you can’t lecture people who aren’t here about their diets.”

“ _Anyway_.” Saeki put a hand in between Hori and Kuroo. “Is Okamura around?”

Kuroo cocked his head curiously. “Haven’t seen him, why?”

“Oh good.” Hori’s laugh was crass. “I wanna see when he meets Golden Boy here.”

Tsukishima blinked. _Golden Boy?_ But Kuroo’s hand locked on his shoulder once again before he could open his mouth.

“Well, when he stumbles in, you can tell Okamura he can flirt with his own recruits.” Kuroo said, pushing Kei lightly into the living room. “Or no. Actually, advise against flirting with _any_ recruit. Yes. Better.” He waved his beer in farewell.

It would have been a marvelous gesture, Kei reflected, had the entire population of the kitchen not come along with them. It was a loud, giggly crowd that grew around them, gesticulating with drinks, shouting out this or that name Kei didn’t know, and doing piss-poor jobs of flirting.

Quite a lot of them flirted with Kuroo. Kei sipped his beer — the grapefruit was a little sour but quite tasty actually — and watched as Kuroo navigated them all. Men, women, athletes, nerds, jokers, shy people... everyone had a taste of Kuroo’s attention. It was amazing. It was how he was at every Nekoma/Karasuno game, only turned up to eleven.

Kei congratulated himself on never joining the crowd that orbited Kuroo at those games.

“Tsukkiiii!!!”

The shortest man in the house — possibly the shortest _person_ in the house — plowed through the group until he reached Kei’s side. He beamed up at them both, spiky black-and-bleached hair standing straight up as always.

“Please don’t call me that,” Kei said, but he felt himself sigh. It shouldn’t be such a relief to see a familiar face. “Pleasure to see you again, Nishinoya-san.” He bowed to his former teammate.

“Did you get that for two whole years, Noya?” Kuroo asked excitedly. “I’ve been Kuroo-san for five hours now!”

A large young man with sheepish brown eyes followed in Nishinoya’s wake. “Enjoying it?” he teased gently. Azumane Asahi had been a decent ace for Karasuno’s men’s volleyball team, but Kei hadn’t been surprised to hear he wasn’t going to continue to play in college. The skill was there, but the drive to be incredible was lacking.

A quick slap on his back sent Kei rocking forward. “I’ve been eating it up with a spoon!” Kuroo crowed. Kei favored him with a faint glare.

“So you’re thinking of joining the team?” Nishinoya crowded closer.

“Er...” Kei fought the urge to back up a step. Nishinoya radiated energy like an exploding sun. If you wanted to talk about the drive to be incredible...

“Who’s joining the team?”

Kei’s eyes went wide. A tall woman with long blonde hair knocked shoulders with Azumane. She smiled up at him awkwardly. _Oh no._ Kei sincerely hoped Azumane would let her down gently. Everyone with any observation skills at all knew that he and Nishinoya were—

“Shizuku—!” Nishinoya cheered, but he was cut off as a jaw-dropping brunette slid up next to the blonde and leaned.

“Holy _shit_.” The woman was a bit shorter than the blonde, but her smoky voice and athletic curves suggested no one would complain. “Was it a requirement to be hot to play on your high-school team, Azumane-san?”

Heavily lashed eyes looked Kei up and down. She threw in a feral smile, and Kei’s throat felt thick. He wasn’t the type to be overly flustered by an admiring female — he’d received his first high-school confession as a middle schooler — but honestly. He adjusted his glasses and fought to keep his face neutral.

“Hey, now.” Kuroo threw an arm in front of Kei. “Hands off, Riri. Back. Down, girl. Bad.”

Riri flipped her long, wavy hair back over a shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Kuroo. “No fun,” she cooed.

Azumane cleared his throat. “Shizuku, Riri,” he said to the girls, “Tsukishima was one of the best blockers on—”

“Yeah, cuz _I_ taught him,” Kuroo interrupted proudly. Kei wished he could say he’d lost count of how many times Kuroo’s arm had slid around his shoulders today, but that would be a lie. This was the fifth time. “And now he’s gonna be the second-best blocker on _my_ team. Finally.”

 _Finally?_ “Kuroo-san, I haven’t—”

“Kuroo-san!” Kuroo threw a hand to his forehead and gave a mock gasp. “I am never giving that up.”

 _Okay, really._ The living room was too damn warm, and Kuroo was too damn _close._ Kei reached for Kuroo’s hand and dropped it from his shoulder like a hot brick. “I’m sure you could train some other poor undergrad to feed your kink,” he managed coldly.

Kuroo leaned in close, his dark hair tousled over one eye. “It’s not the same, Tsukki, it’s not.”

Kei’s stomach flipped. “I’m leaving Sunday morning. You’ll have to come up with an alternative.”

“I refuse. There is no alternative. Problem solved.”

“You refuse? You refuse to let me go home? Finish my third year of high school?”

Kuroo studied him. “I refuse...” he said slowly, “to let you play for anyone else.”

Kei stared.

Kuroo glanced at the ceiling and hummed. “Wow, that was awful. No, let me rephrase. _Ahem._ I refuse—”

“You are _ridiculous_ ,” Kei tried to say scathingly.

“— to listen to you talk about playing anywhere else _at least_ —” Kuroo held up a hand. “— for this weekend. You have to promise to consider us properly, Tsukki.”

Irritation, unbidden and irrational, flooded Kei’s brain. He opened his mouth to say heaven-knows-what when Kuroo’s eyes slid off him. Whatever he saw caused a satisfied smirk.

Kei followed his gaze. Nishinoya, bright-eyed and bushy-haired, snuggled in Azumane’s arms and grinned as the two of them watched Kei and Kuroo argue.

Irritation found a safer home _._ When Kei thought of the lengths Yamaguchi and Yachi had gone to last year at all the home games to shove Azumane and Nishinoya together...

He couldn’t stop himself. “Well, I see that finally happened. Congratulations.” Azumane, already blushing madly, went purple.

That probably toed the line of polite speech a little too closely, but goddammit, Yamaguchi and Yachi had made idiots of themselves last year. Which wouldn’t have been _so_ bad, except that their idiocy rubbed off on everyone in the vicinity.

And speaking of idiots in the vicinity...

“You haven’t seen me play in a year, Kuroo-san,” Kei continued. “You should wait to see if your coaches think I’m worth your effort.”

Kuroo was still close. Maybe it was because someone had turned the music up, and it was getting harder to hear conversation. Yes. This was normal, and Kei wouldn’t back away. He held Kuroo’s gaze, maybe a bit more defiantly than necessary.

“Well, you’ve certainly changed in a year, I’ll give you that,” Kuroo agreed breezily. He broke eye contact to sip at his beer, and it was just long enough for some new girl to tug at his arm and giggle up at him.

Kei released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He watched Azumane cuddle Nishinoya as he futzed around with his phone. The two girls, Shizuku and Riri, were giggling at some private joke together. A girl and a couple guys vied for Kuroo’s attention. And somehow Kei was in the middle of it, wishing for tomorrow and the distraction of volleyball.

He hadn’t changed at all in a year.

* * *

 

“Kuroo! There you are, man, been looking everywhere for you.”

Kei looked up from a conversation with Nishinoya about what _not_ to say to the head coach tomorrow. He frowned. Daishou had slithered up next to Kuroo and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. His attention, however, was focused elsewhere. Kei followed his gaze to Riri, oblivious and laughing with a girl from the soccer team.

 _Poor thing._ Kei sipped his beer and watched.

“Daishou.” Kuroo sounded resigned. “You made it.”

“Oh, you know. I never forget a promise.”

“That you don’t. Hey... Riri?”

“Mm?” Riri turned toward them gracefully. Kei noticed that Daishou didn’t miss a movement.

Kuroo gestured at Daishou with his beer. “You ever met Daishou? He’s a wing spiker on—”

“Daishou Suguru.” Daishou leaned around Kuroo, smooth smile at the ready. “I’m sure if we’d met before, we’d both remember.”

Kuroo clamped his mouth shut.

“Uh huh?” Riri looked Daishou up and down. “Yyyeaahh, I think you’re right. Definitely haven’t met.”

“And you’re a wing spiker too?” Daishou prompted, when Riri showed no signs of adding to the conversation. “I’ve been to a couple of the women’s games.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet.” Riri smiled, but Kei thought it didn’t really look much like the smiles he’d seen from her so far. “It’s always so nice when the guys here take an interest in women’s athletics. Makes us feel real appreciated.”

“Well, you know.” Daishou shrugged, his smile pleased in a way that Kei felt was ill-advised. “You planning on catching our game tomorrow? Some of the guys usually hit up a bar or two afterward, but if you want, you and I could—”

“Oh, wow, that is _so nice_ of you!” Riri barely slowed down. “But I’m working on this other thing right now, and—”

Daishou’s smile slipped a fraction.

“God, stop beating around the bush.” The soccer player smacked Riri on the arm. She rolled her eyes and turned to Daishou. “This girl’s on a mission to get some special training from her team captain, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Mihara!” Riri squealed. “That’s it, no more booze for you, your tongue’s gotten longer than—”

“You just hope Hiyori’s is too!”

Kei watched Daishou’s face as the girls fell into their own world, neatly forgetting he’d ever been there.

“Look, don't take it personally, I tried to tell you—” Kuroo began quietly, but Daishou lifted a hand.

“You never said it was a woman.” Daishou turned away. “I’m getting a drink.”

Kuroo wiped a hand over his face, but grinned when he caught Kei watching him. “So! How’s your beer?”

* * *

 

Grapefruit beer was delicious. Kei leaned his head back against the living room wall and examined the can. Funny that it had seemed so large at the beginning of the evening. He was almost finished with it now.

However, he was willing to place only half the blame on the beer for the fact that he was now sitting on Kuroo’s living room floor. The rest of it could surely be divided among the other five people wallowing on the carpet with him.

Riri and Shizuku were certainly friendly. Kei wasn’t incredibly used to socializing with women, but he could get used to it. Even when Riri would raise her head from Shizuku’s lap to say something _incredibly_ inappropriate. And it was relaxing, of course, to see that Nishinoya had apparently taken up permanent residence in Azumane’s arms directly across from him. And Kuroo...

Kuroo wasn’t exactly leaning into Kei. He was probably mostly leaning into the wall. But every time Kei lifted his hand to take a drink, Kuroo’s T-shirt sleeve caught on the shoulder of Kei’s sweater. It should be maddening — perhaps it was the beer that made the repetition bizarrely peaceful. Raise arm, appreciate tangy grapefruit beer, feel cotton catch against wool, watch Kuroo watch him out of the corner of his eye—

“Look at this bunch of sleeping vaginas I found over here!”

Kei’s eyes flew open over the rim of his beer can.

A young man loomed over Azumane and Nishinoya. His eyes had the dull glaze of the truly hammered as he swayed a little on his feet. “Aw, and what’s this?” he sneered, pushing his shaggy dark hair out of his face. “Azumane finally decided which of his harem he wanted to fuck after all? So sweet. Really, I mean it.”

 _The fuck?_ Kei frowned. Azumane looked about ready to explode, curled protectively over Nishinoya. Nishinoya gripped Azumane’s biceps. Hard. Kei could see him leaving fingernail marks.

“Oh, fuck off already.” Riri lifted herself from Shizuku’s lap. “Leave them alone.” But her voice shook a little at the end. Kei wondered if the jerk was really as tall as he looked.

“Can’t do that, sweetheart.” The dark-haired drunk waved his beer at her. “Gotta figure out the territory, gotta ask questions. Unless.” He leered. “You wanna come answer all of ‘em for me?”

It is a truth universally acknowledged that no one likes bullies, and Kei _hated_ them. Well, he wasn’t against giving Hinata and Kageyama a hard time during practice, but on principle—

“All right, Kibikino, asshole hour is over.” Kuroo sounded very nearly bored. He waved a hand vaguely behind his head. “After-hours assholery is happening out in the backyard, why don’t you go check it out?”

Kibikino turned on his new target. “You’re part of the harem too, Kuroo? Oh, no, wait.” Unpleasant eyes landed on Kei. “Looks like you brought your own tonight.”

Kei stopped breathing.

“Some gentlemen, as they say,” Kibikino continued, his tone disgusting, “do prefer blondes.”

And Kei let out a sigh. He stood. “Oh, I like this place already.”

Yamaguchi called it his Bastard Ice Lord voice. Kei just knew it made most people back up a step while conveniently hiding any lack of confidence in himself. The words didn’t seem to matter so much as the tone.

Kei picked his way through their little group until he stood next to Kibikino. Who was not, in fact, as tall as he looked. Kei smiled down at him from more than a few centimeters. “It’s so nice,” he said, all sweet and cold, “when the assholes crawl out of their pits to announce exactly who they are.”

Kibikino’s mouth popped open. Kei could smell the booze on him, and it did not smell like grapefruit. “I’m getting another beer,” he announced without taking his eyes off Kibikino. “Can I get anyone anything? No?” He walked toward the kitchen, careful to not so much as brush against Kibikino on his way.

He really didn’t need another beer. The crowd closed in around him, loud voices and louder music melting into one indistinguishable buzz.

People. Fucking just _people_ everywhere. Kei grimaced as a couple bumped into him on the edge of an unofficial dance floor. The kitchen wasn’t much better — partiers with less confidence stayed close to the sweating coolers, tracking sticky footprints around as they shuffled out of the way of newcomers seeking more booze.

They parted for him as they always did, and Kei took his time examining the bottles on the counter instead of the cans in the coolers. Hell if he knew what any of them were. At least he knew he liked the beer Kuroo gave him. His hand was halfway into the cooler when Kuroo’s voice floated back to him: _“You might want to go slow to start.”_

Kei frowned and redirected to a short, fat bottle on the counter. Its contents were golden brown, and it had a sophisticated-looking label.

“Mmm, nice choice.”

Kei held the bottle carelessly as he turned his head toward a voice he already hated.

Kibikino was at his shoulder, smirking up at him. “Shoulda known you weren’t into the stuff for sippy cups,” he murmured. “Lemme get that for you.” He plucked the bottle from Kei’s hand and reached around him for a plastic cup.

Kei narrowed his eyes. He made himself stay still as Kibikino took every opportunity to bump into him as he fixed the drink. A couple cubes of ice, far too much whiskey, and Kibikino held the cup nearly up to Kei’s mouth. “Just for you,” he said, voice low. Kei’s skin crawled.

He had gotten his first confession from a high-school girl while he was in middle school. He’d gotten his fifth confession at his high-school entrance ceremony from a third-year boy. It had been a long three years since then. Kei knew the look on Kibikino’s face.

“I’m particular about who makes my drinks.” Kei adjusted his glasses. “You’ll forgive my rudeness, of course.”

Kibikino’s smile stayed in place, but any sensuality was gone. “And if I don’t want to?”

Movement caught Kei’s eye at the kitchen door.

Kuroo leaned against the fridge, one hand in his back pocket, a beer in the other. His face was neutral, shoulders relaxed. He didn’t look away.

“Well — Kibikino-san, was it?” Kei took the cup from him and nudged him to the side with one arm. “I don’t much care if you don’t want to. Excuse me.”

He walked toward Kuroo, chin up, anxiety well hidden. _What if he laughs at me? What if he doesn’t play along?_

Kuroo didn’t move a muscle, didn’t take his eyes off Kei. A hint of a closed-mouth smile put Kei more at ease.

“Kuroo-san.” Kei only came to a stop when one of his boots touched the toe of Kuroo’s high-top. Kuroo tilted his head back and didn’t look at all uncomfortable being pinned against his own refrigerator.

Kei wet his lips briefly. It wouldn’t hurt to get into the act a little. He held up the plastic cup of whiskey and melting ice. “Help me drink this, would you?” He tried to get his tone as far away from Bastard Ice Lord as he could.

He must have managed. Kuroo’s mouth fell open a little. He closed it immediately, his eyes sliding shut. “Unfair, Tsukki.” He looked up at Kei. “You know how I get when you ask me like that.”

A horse may as well have kicked Kei in the chest. “L-like—?”

“But you know the rules. We don’t drink in the kitchen.” Kuroo reached for his hand and pushed away from the fridge. “Kibikino. I’ll catch your next game.”

* * *

 

Kei followed Kuroo out into the backyard, mind frozen by the hand holding his. _I’m... I’m... Kuroo’s holding my... he’s... what...?_

The evening was a bit chilly, thanks to how damp the day had been. One couple seemed to be using the weather as an excuse to get tangled up in a chair underneath the sprawling wisteria.

Kuroo murmured an apology as he took a seat in the circle of chairs near them. Kei remained standing, face on fire.

One of the boys raised his head angrily at the intrusion. “C’mon, Kuroo, are you serious right now?” He was tall and wiry, wrapped defensively around a much shorter, rather beefier, and considerably drunker boy.

Kuroo shrugged and grinned. “Seems like if you’ve gotten that far, you might want to go up to your room? Or his place?”

The shorter boy squirmed around, eyes opening halfway. “Kurrrrroo? Kuroo! It worked!” He leaned back into his partner’s arms, satisfied. “He liked the beer you told me about.”

Kei narrowed his eyes. _Oh yeah._ The little guy was the one who’d pestered Kuroo in the liquor store that afternoon. Kuroo had helped him pick out something one of his teammates would like.

“That is _awesome_ , Tashiro,” Kuroo enthused. “You should see if he’s interested in seeing your apartment,” he added in a stage whisper.

Tashiro was already pretty flushed from a variety of self-evident reasons, but he glanced at the tall boy underneath him shyly. “Um. Reon? Do you... um... do you wanna—?”

“Oh my god.” Reon buried his face in Tashiro’s shoulder. “ _Kuroo_ , I swear to god, sometimes... _fine._ Come on.” He stood, catching Tashiro before he fell. “You probably couldn’t even make it home on your own anyway.”

Kei watched them walk around the house to the front gate. Tashiro practically had stars in his eyes. “That was...” he said slowly, “the most bizarre cockblock I’ve ever seen.”

Kuroo settled contentedly in his chair. “Is it?”

“It was almost like a... what’s the opposite of a cockblock?” Kei asked. He took a seat next to Kuroo carefully. He felt young and inexperienced and more than a little embarrassed.

Kuroo rolled his head against the back of the chair to look at him. “‘s called being a wingman. I’m amazing at it, ask anyone.”

“I could ask Daishou-san,” Kei suggested slyly.

Kuroo groaned and slunk further in his chair. “The best wingman can’t help someone who’s set his sights on the impossible. Are you gonna drink that crap or what?”

Kei glanced down out the cup in his hand. It was nearly full now, thanks to the melted ice.

“How’d you end up with that anyway?” Kuroo asked. “Didn’t take you for much of a drinker.”

“I... just thought I’d try something new.” Kei hated how defensive he sounded.

“Mm. Well, farbeit from me to keep someone from trying something new. But that stuff’s no joke.”

Kei looked into his cup suspiciously. He sniffed. It smelled like rubbing alcohol.

“You can pour it out,” Kuroo said. “It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone.”

Kei scowled. “I’m at least going to try it.” His first sip was small and timid. Not enough to send him into a coughing fit, but enough to burn his throat thoroughly.

Kuroo laughed softly, watching his reaction. “That’s how people get drunk fast. You want to last out a party, you drink beer. You want to stop having fun in an hour, you drink whiskey.”

Kei smacked his tongue delicately. The burn was dying away, leaving a rough sweetness. Kind of like... tea? That couldn’t be right, could it? He took another sip.

“Hey.” Kuroo sat up. “You going for it?”

“Will you relax?” Kei snapped. “It’s... it might not be that bad.”

“It _isn’t_ bad,” Kuroo argued. “That’s why people drink it. But it sneaks up on you.”

It was warm. Kei knew the burn was on its way, but it coated his throat this time, and he traced it all the way down to his stomach. “Mm.”

“Mm?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “You... you like it?”

“You talk a _lot_ , you know that?” Kei glared at him. “I thought you were going to help me drink this.”

Kuroo held his gaze for a moment, then reached out a hand. “Give it here.”

If Kei was inclined toward suspicion of others, he would almost be willing to bet that Kuroo was _chugging_ the watered-down whiskey. “Hey. If you like it that much, you can go get your own, you know.”

Kuroo handed the cup back to him and wiped the corners of his mouth. “Nah. Plenty left.”

They passed the drink back and forth. Talking about their high-school teams. Remembering training camps they’d gone to. Mulling over what the next day would bring, what challenges the opposing team would present.

Kei watched Kuroo take another long pull from the cup. Kei knew he was feeling buzzed himself, but Kuroo’s head lolled as he handed the drink back to Kei.

“Done!” Kuroo cheered.

“Aw, you finished it?” Kei frowned into the empty cup. “An’ you were lecturing _me_. Kuroo-san’s the one with the... thingie... tomorrow.”

“Game.” Kuroo leaned his head back and covered his eyes with an arm. “‘s called a game.”

“‘n you’re gonna be hungover as _fuck_ , you damn idiot,” Kei jeered. “You thinka that?”

“Yup.”

Kei blinked. “Damn bigger idiot than I thought.”

Kuroo didn’t move his arm. “If I drink about a bathtub full of water ‘fore I go to bed, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh.” That sounded smart. “Me too. I’ll go get... oooh.” Kei stood and held the back of his chair. The world attempted to right itself to his brain’s new dimensions.

“Y’all right? Tsukki?”

“Fine. ‘m fine.” Kei lurched toward the house. “Be back.”

The house was quiet. A few bodies were curled up on the floor and on couches, but the music had fallen to a reasonable volume. Kei’s boots pulled up stickily from the kitchen floor, but one of the coolers still had a couple bottles of water floating in melted-ice water. Worth it.

Also worth it was Kuroo’s groan when Kei held a dripping bottle to his cheek.

“Sorry, couldn’t find a bathtub.” Kei leaned over him to make sure Kuroo saw his unsympathetic smirk.

Kuroo let his arm drop from his eyes, and Kei swallowed hard. Kuroo’s face was flushed, eyes heavy and dark, mouth open carelessly. “You...” Kuroo slurred, “are so not worth all this trouble.” Long fingers curled around Kei’s wrist.

He shouldn’t have been capable of a grip like that. A guy that wasted shouldn’t be able to coax anyone in that gently. Kei saw his own hand in slow motion, settling on Kuroo’s shoulder, fingers twisting in another stupid black T-shirt.

Kuroo’s eyes drifted shut a heartbeat before Kei leaned down and... but Kuroo’s lashes were so dark against his skin, really perfect skin, and Kei would just like to stare for awhile, thank you very much, and—

“Tsukki...” Kuroo breathed, and it smelled like whiskey. “Tsukki, c’mere...”

What a ridiculous thing, for knees to bend without a brain behind them to say yay or nay. Kei sat on an obscenely long thigh, covered in too-tight jeans. Kuroo hummed in approval, and Kei’s heart slammed into his ribs.

His fingers looked so white against Kuroo’s jaw. Kei traced the bone with light fingertips, tilting that stupid pointy chin up. Coaxed lips apart with his thumb. Tasting the whiskey on them, feeling shocked breath against his own mouth.

Kuroo’s arm fell against Kei’s thigh, and Kei couldn’t have pointed out anything uncomfortable about being two meters tall and curled up in someone’s lap in a lawn chair. He kept a hand twisted in the T-shirt at Kuroo’s shoulder, let the other one fall behind Kuroo’s neck, scoop up the untidy hair that was too long, too dark, too enticing.

Kuroo sighed against his lips, arched his neck to rest in Kei’s hand.

 _Fucking god._ Kei tried a new angle, since it didn’t seem like there would be much objection. _Let me... just let me... just this once... then. Then... oh god._ He felt a tug at the hem of his sweater, calloused fingers testing the idea of his spine—

“Kuroo.”

Kei’s eyes flew open. The voice was unwelcome. Loud. And right behind him. Kuroo’s eyes narrowed at something past Kei’s shoulder, but he put a hand on Kei’s arm to keep him from turning around.

The voice laughed humorlessly. “Some fancy new university-approved recruiting method for high schoolers, Kuroo?”

“What do you want, Daishou.” Kuroo’s voice was flat, and Kei’s heart sank.

“Nothing, nothing. Elated that not all of us had shit luck tonight. Always here for my teammates. Even when they’re banging minors.”

“What do you _want._ Daishou.”

A pause went long. Then, “If we lose tomorrow, I’m handing your ass over to the coaches. You’re not jeopardizing the team so you can get a hard-on with a kid. But hey.” Footsteps rustled in the grass, and Daishou walked around the chair back toward the house. “Don’t take it personally.” Snake-like eyes glanced over a shoulder and caught Kei’s glare. Daishou’s smirk had not improved with age.

Kei watched him until he let the back door fall shut, then dropped his gaze to Kuroo, mouth open to reassure, promise, swear—

“You go to bed first,” Kuroo said quietly. He pushed at Kei’s chest until Kei backed off and stood from his lap awkwardly. “Bed’s yours, ‘member.”

“Kuroo-san.” Kei tried not to let his voice sound like... anything, really. Not a question, not worried, not embarrassed. Not heartbroken.

Kuroo kept his eyes closed. Lifted his unopened bottle of water. “Gotta get this down. I’ll be up when it’s done.”

Kei stared down at him, breath still coming hard. Kuroo let his head fall back, eyes still shut tight to the world. Long legs, long arms, scruffy hair, long lashes...

Kei turned on his heel without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COCKBLOCKS. WHAT WOULD A CODANGO STORY BE WITHOUT 'EM?


	4. Chapter 4

_You have to sleep._

Kei clicked his phone. 2:45.

 _You_ have _to sleep._

He rolled over — Kuroo’s bed smelled of freshly washed sheets — and stared at the bedroom’s single window. Kuroo couldn’t stay outside all night. Right?

 _Stop worrying_. He squeezed his eyes shut. Tomorrow was already going to be hell as it was. More alcohol than he was used to, not enough water to make up for it, and it was 3 a.m. Thank god the game wasn’t for another twelve hours, but he had to be at the team manager’s office by noon. He couldn’t afford to stay awake any longer. Had to shut his mind down... had to stop worrying...

What if Kuroo really couldn’t play well? What would happen if the team lost because a player wasn’t up to par? Daishou wouldn’t really tell the coaches it was Kuroo’s fault, surely. Kei dug his fingernails into his pillow.

He’d made Kuroo get drunk. Made him get drunk, and then made out with him. Kei dragged the quilt over his head. Did universities give out awards for Worst Recruit Ever? _Ogle your host, intoxicate him, take advantage of him... ruin his career._

Kei’s eyes flew open as the bedroom door creaked.

Kuroo sighed, but he took the time to close the door quietly. Bare feet made _shush_ ing noises across the floor. Kei forced himself to keep still, his back to the rest of the room. Clothing _thwapped_ into a laundry basket. The bed shook the tiniest bit as Kuroo dragged something out from underneath.

Kei wondered if Kuroo realized how much he was sighing as he arranged the futon. He wished he would stop. Each heavy breath landed like a brick on his chest.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Kuroo just sounded exhausted. If he just sounded like he’d woken from a drunken nap and was annoyed at having to make his bed in the wee hours of the morning. Kei clenched a fist in his T-shirt at another heavy exhale. It dripped with regret and resignation.

What if Kei just sat up? What if he said _it’s not your fault, it was me, I’m the one who ruined everything..._

Instead, he lay still. Waiting for Kuroo to settle, waiting for those sighs to turn into even, deep breathing. Slowly, the room quieted. Just as Kei was letting his own eyes slide shut, Kuroo released one last, barely audible breath:

“Fuck.”

* * *

 

Kei’s Saturday alarm was set for 7 a.m., as opposed to 5:30 a.m. on school days. The extra two hours were usually enough. That morning, however, the annoying jingle was a bolt through his head.

He made no move to shut off the alarm. It could sit there and be needy for all he—

A pained groan rose from the floor.

Kei was _instantly_ awake. He launched himself at his phone, trying to remember if you tapped or swiped to make the noises stop. “Ohmigodohmigod, sorry, sorry, forgot!” Alarm silenced, Kei dared to lean over the edge of the bed.

Kuroo lay there, one leg out of the futon, an arm thrown over his forehead. “Holy god,” he moaned.

Kei swallowed hard, images from last night flooding his brain as he ran his eyes over the body in front of him. “H-how do you feel?”

“How are you awake?” Kuroo’s voice was rough and cracked everywhere. Kei had never heard anything quite like it. “Holy shit, do you feel like this?”

Guilt washed over Kei. “I don’t think so. You, ah, need anything? Wait, I might have...” He scrambled out of bed, grabbed his bag leaning against the desk. He usually carried something for headaches. “Here, you can have—”

Kuroo was staring at him, propped up on an elbow, a hand still cupping his forehead.

It was absolutely not a problem that Kei was only wearing his boxers. Kei told himself this firmly. _Everyone_ slept in their underwear. Kuroo probably wasn’t even wearing—

“ _Here._ ” Kei shot out his hand. “Just take them already.”

Kuroo took the pills, his eyes everywhere. “Uh,” he said.

Kei fought the urge to dive under the covers. He lifted his chin and folded his arms across his chest. It served Kuroo right, maybe. He was the one who’d shoved Kei off his lap last night. Let him get an eyeful.

Kuroo shoved the pills in his mouth.

“Don’t you need to take those with water?” Kei smirked.

Kuroo choked a little as the pills caught in his throat. “Probably?”

Kei sighed and hoped it sounded longsuffering. He grabbed a sports bottle off of Kuroo’s desk and threw it at him. “Yours, right?” He allowed himself a flicker of satisfaction when Kuroo almost didn’t catch it.

When Kuroo finally dragged his eyes up to meet Kei’s, Kei raised an eyebrow. _Yeah, you were staring. What now?_

Kuroo screwed his eyes shut and grimaced. “We are going to breakfast.” His voice was still rough.

“Breakfast?” Kei repeated. Kuroo didn’t look particularly receptive to the idea of food.

“Breakfast.” Kuroo turned around on his butt awkwardly, fumbling for the clothes piled unceremoniously next to his pillow. It seemed to require a lot of focus to turn last night’s T-shirt right-side-out. Kei watched muscles move elegantly over shoulders, arms, back, hips...

Kei spun on his heel and started rummaging through his bag for his practice gear. “Can you keep anything down?”

Kuroo huffed a laugh. “Coffee doesn’t sound horrible at least. You can have the bathroom first.”

Kei clutched his clothes to his chest. “Right.”

* * *

 

The greasy-spoon diner was just a couple blocks away. Kei felt a little more in control of his life in his Karasuno warmups, so the stone silence of their walk didn’t rattle him. Much.

He glanced at Kuroo occasionally. His skin was gray, his mouth was severe, and his bedhead was outrageous. But his college hoodie looked soft, and his jeans were as tight as ever, and Kei was left hoping hangovers would look that good on him when he got to college.

A couple of the servers heckled Kuroo about being out so early on a Saturday — because of course they knew him. Kei was still trying to get used to that.

“So do you think there are a dozen people you haven’t met yet on campus,” Kei asked, focusing on adding milk to his coffee, “or is it more like five or six?”

Kuroo held his steaming mug right under his nose and inhaled deeply. “Don’t be ridiculous. I bet I haven’t met half the graduating class in pre-med.”

“Oh. I suspect they’re just busy.”

Kuroo’s only response was a wan grin over his coffee, eyes closed.

How hungover was he? “I suppose being so popular works for some people,” Kei went on. “You’ll probably make captain your senior year.”

“Nah.” Kuroo took a long sip and gave a satisfied sigh. “That’ll be Oikawa, guarantee.”

“Mm. Where was he last night? Did he ever come to the party?”

Kuroo smirked. “They haven’t been showing up at those much lately.”

“They?”

“Iwaizumi. He’s got his own place, ergo, Oikawa’s not at the house much.”

Kei was pretty sure he was missing something. “Why’s that?” Presumably, Iwaizumi still liked volleyball, even if wasn’t playing in college. Surely he wouldn’t try to keep Oikawa _away_ from his team.

Kuroo finally opened his eyes. “They started dating a couple months ago.”

Kei instantly felt horribly, horribly young. “Oh.” _Oikawa and Iwaizumi, huh?_ They were the same age, in the same class. And even if they weren’t, Iwaizumi wasn’t on the team. Dating someone who wasn’t actually your teammate was probably a lot more—

Kuroo was watching him. _Shit._

Kuroo set down his coffee and leaned forward. “Tsukki...”

 _Fuck._ Kei folded his arms coolly.

“Tsukki, about last night...” Kuroo paused as though waiting for him to interrupt.

Kei sat there.

“Yeah. Well.” Kuroo breathed in through his nose, a decisive sound. “I’m sorry.”

Kei blinked.

“I’d like to blame the booze,” Kuroo went on, “but the bottom line is it’s my fault. It was unprofessional. And it won’t happen again.”

“... unprofessional?” It’s hard to sneer when you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, but Kei tried. “We were at a college house party. At _your_ house. The night before a game.”

“... Yes?”

“What part exactly are we highlighting as unprofessional?” Kei challenged.

Kuroo wiped a hand over his face. “Come on, Tsukki.”

Kei bristled at the tone. “And ‘unprofessional,’ really? You’re a sophomore in college, not on Japan’s national team.”

“And you’re graduating high school in a month,” Kuroo said calmly. “You are way too smart to not know how badly we could fuck you up.”

Kei’s mouth opened. And closed.

“I don’t know the details of what you’ve got riding on this scholarship,” Kuroo continued, “but I am not gonna be the one that ruins it for you.”

Kei’s heart was beating too fast. “Oh, and you don’t have stuff riding on your college career? Daishou said he’d tell—”

“Daishou is not an idiot. I’m the best blocker the team has had in two seasons.” Kuroo’s confidence was always easy. Like his skill was a given. The sun would rise, tides would turn, and Kuroo would be an asset to whatever team he was on.

“Oh.” So Kei had been worried about nothing.

“All I have to do is not fuck up a win tonight, and I’ll be fine.”

“Wait, what? You just said—”

“Oh, he definitely follows through on shit he’s said he’ll do. He’s very principled like that. But he’s not gonna go out of his way to kick me off the team.” Kuroo picked up his mug. “If we win.”

“And if you don’t?” Kei tried not to sound worried. Kuroo still looked kind of green.

“Pfffft.” Kuroo sat back and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not gonna lose, Tsukki! How am I gonna get you to play on my team if I don’t impress you?”

Kei sucked in a breath and burned his tongue on his coffee.

* * *

 

Being around Kuroo for hours was a study in pros and cons. For example, Kei hadn’t blushed in several minutes.

He was used to seeing Kuroo from afar or for a couple minutes at the games Karasuno played against Nekoma. Kei relied on those games to provide him with a distraction from the sparkly fog that seemed to surround Kuroo. It was something of a relief that hours in close proximity appeared to be breaking through the sparkle.

Unfortunately, once you got past the sparkle, you still had Kuroo. Up close, with no distractions, Kuroo was still smart. Calm. Interested. And hot.

It really would have been more convenient if Kuroo would have been full of himself. A little condescending. Something other than someone who nerds out a little too much about environmental science, which was not so much a flaw as it was an annoying turn-on.

The sparkles were being replaced by a slow, cozy heat.

It was with some necessity that Kei insisted he had to spend the rest of the morning at the library. Alone.

* * *

 

_**You:** What are you doing_

_**Yamaguchi:**?! what’re YOU doing?! isn’t today the big thing??_

_**You:** Not for like another hour._  
_**You:** Meeting team manager at noon._  
_**You:** Been studying._

 _ **Yamaguchi:**... excuse me, who is this_  
_**Yamaguchi:** bc tsukki wouldn’t be texting me rn i know that_

 _ **You:**_ （・_・）  
_**You:** Can’t concentrate. _  
_**You:** Got bored._

 _ **Yamaguchi:**..._  
_**Yamaguchi:** you are meeting a college team staff in like an hour and your bored_  
_**Yamaguchi:** i take it all back. you are tsukki._  
_**Yamaguchi:** i dont know why i worry_  
_**Yamaguchi:** id be pissing myself_

_**You:** Only so much prep work you can do._

_**Yamaguchi:** so why aren’t you getting unbored w host daddy?_

...

...

 _ **Yamaguchi:** touched a nerve ic_  
_**Yamaguchi:** ru serious right now_  
_**Yamaguchi:** you still haven’t made a move i stg_  
_**Yamaguchi:** how are you w him for 18hrs w nothing to show for it_

_**You:** Who says there’s nothing?_

_**Yamaguchi:** TSUKKI_

_**You:** You know, I think I could look over my chem notes one more time._  
_**You:** Since you don’t wanna talk right now._

 _ **Yamaguchi:** TSUKISHIMA. RIGHT NOW._  
_**Yamaguchi:** TELL. NOW._

_**You:** Your manners are atrocious._

_**Yamaguchi:** i will tell your brother you want him to come pick you up tonight_

_**You:** I kissed him._

_**Yamaguchi:** TSUKKI!@!_

_**You:** or he kissed me._

_**Yamaguchi:** MY LITTLE MAN ALL GROWN UP_

_**You:** or something. We were kind of drunk, I believe._  
_**You:** which I think was mostly my fault._

_**Yamaguchi:** i don’t see kuroo as the type to drink unless he wants to?_

_**You:** Someone gave me something that was too strong, and I think Kuroo took it so I wouldn’t... well. whatever_  
_**You:** one kiss_  
_**You:** and he pushed me off his lap._

_**Yamaguhi:** you were in his LAP?_

_**You:** Anyway, this morning_

_**Yamaguchi:** helluva kiss is all i’m saying_

_**You:** He said he was sorry, and it wouldn’t happen again._

_**Yamaguchi:** what?_

_**You:** so, yes, I am hiding in the library where I can’t make an idiot of myself._

_**Yamaguchi:** wait i don’t understand_  
_**Yamaguchi:** i’m missing something_

 _ **You:** No, you’ve got all of it. _  
_**You:** He pulled the whole ‘I’m smarter and older and I won’t let you ruin your college career,” etc._  
_**You:** Most considerate rejection ever._

_**Yamaguchi:** you still wanna play there now?_

_**You:** I want to play here for lots of reasons._  
_**You:** the team is solid, coaches are good_  
_**You:** has the major i need w a good program_  
_**You:** Also there’s a shit ton of people here._  
_**You:** Lots of other tall, dark-haired jocks around._

_**Yamaguchi:** tsukki_

_**You:** Would you look at the time? Might get lost finding the right office._

_**Yamaguchi:** its 1130_

_**You:** Really lost._  
_**You:** See you tomorrow._

* * *

 

The athletic department smelled of new rubber and bleach and sweat. It was all gorgeous natural light and gleaming steel beams and stunningly fit young athletes everywhere.

Kei shifted his gym bag on his shoulder. The guy behind the weight-room desk was cute. He blushed when Kei caught his eye.

 _What the hell._ It was time for an ego boost. The guy ran a hand through his hair when Kei started to walk over.

One phone number later, Kei was at the door of the volleyball team manager’s office.

A woman in her thirties looked up as he walked in. “Tsukishima? Happy to see you found us all right.”

Kei bowed. “Inari-san. Your students are very helpful.”

“Pleased to hear it.” She gestured to a small sitting area. “Have a seat. Coach Kojimo and Coach Hirata will be here in a moment, and we’ll get started. Tea?”

Kei smiled, confidence back in place. “If it’s not too much trouble, ma’am, thank you.”

* * *

 

What had Kei been nervous about again? He murmured a thank-you as Coach Kojimo freshened his tea. If all college athletic interviews were this easy, he'd have to tell Takeda that he'd way oversold the experience.

"Well." Coach Kojimo shifted his bulk back into place on the office's sofa. "Ukai-san did an excellent job bringing you into your third year, I have to say that. Now, moving on to--"

Inari gave a polite little cough. "It's ten till two, Kojimo-san. The team will be waiting for you."

Coach Hirata, a lean woman who was almost as tall as Kei, glanced at an enormous sports watch. "Tsukishima, take a break for ten minutes. Meet us in the main gym. Take a seat on the bench." She was out the door in a matter of seconds.

Kojimo took his time, draining his tea, flipping through Inari's notes from the lengthy interview. He shot Tsukishima a look. "We never did discuss what other universities you were entertaining."

Takeda had prepared him for this. Kei bowed low. "I'm honored to be considered by your university, Kojimo-san."

Kojimo smirked and handed the notes back to Inari. "Quite. And you'll be receiving a letter from us shortly."

Kei caught his breath. Tried not to let anything show on his face. _And just like that_. It was happening. "Thank you, sir."

Inari held the door after Kojimo. “Need help finding the gym?” she asked Kei.

“I should be fine, thank you, but. Restrooms?”

“Of course. Take the stairs, turn left, and down the hall.”

* * *

 

“Just a small one!”

Kei paused with his hand to the bathroom door.

“You don’t need one.”

“Lies!” the first voice whined behind the door. “When have I ever not!”

“You have literally done nothing to deserve this.”

“Iwa-chaaaannn....!”

Kei’s eyes widen. He really should have recognized that wheedling tone. It had only been two years since he’d heard it through a volleyball net.

There was far too much silence on the other side of the door now. Then a light shuffling, a sigh that was a little _too_ heartfelt, and “You know you’re going to do just fine.” Iwaizumi’s voice was softer than it had been moments ago.

Kei backed away as the door opened.

Physically, Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime appeared much the same as they had their third year of high school. Tall, athletic, and varying degrees of intimidating. Emotionally, however, they were a mixed bag at the moment.

Oikawa’s face registered the appropriate embarrassment chased with pride at being caught walking out of a men’s room hand-in-hand with an attractive peer. Iwaizumi wore the same shock but instead of pride, he looked wary.

“Excuse us,” Iwaizumi began, a protective shoulder in front of Oikawa.

Kei stepped to the side, pushing his glasses up his nose. If they didn’t recognize him, then he didn’t see any point in—

“Oh! Oh, wait!” Oikawa shoved at Iwaizumi. “You’re that blocker from Karasuno! Right? Number 11! Ohhhhh, you’re a nasty piece of work you are.” He gasped dramatically and pointed. “That’s _right_. This is Kuroo’s weekend, isn’t it?”

Kei grimaced. “I’m here for a recruitment interview, if that’s what you mean.” But he was a little mollified to know he’d made some kind of impression.

“Not what I meant.” Oikawa leaned an arm on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, his grin cheeky. “But that too, I suppose.”

“Oikawa...” Iwaizumi said quietly.

Kei wanted to be insulted. He was a damn good player. Lots of universities wanted him. Oikawa should be fucking stoked that he was here as a recruit for his team. Unfortunately, Kei couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Oikawa and Iwaizumi were still holding hands.

“Uh. Are teammates allowed to date?” The question was out before he could think to stop it.

Hands fell apart as mouths dropped. Oikawa recovered first and shot Iwaizumi a look, all raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “I’m not on the team, Tsukishima.”

 _Right. I knew that._ “But you’re dating, yes?” Kei wouldn’t be put off. “And the coaches don’t mind?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, but Oikawa patted him on the shoulder. “To answer your real question, Coach Hirata doesn’t mind as long as relationships don’t interfere with volleyball.” Kei swallowed softly at the look on Oikawa’s face. He’d forgotten how intense the setter could be when he got serious.

“And Coach Kojimo?” He was in this far. Might as well go the rest of the way.

Oikawa shrugged a little too carelessly. “It hasn’t come up.”

“Has it come up for anyone else?” Kei asked. He gripped the shoulder strap of his gym bag.

Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa. A sly grin pulled up one corner of Oikawa’s mouth. “Have you noticed, in your short time in the house,” he asked, “that our team is blessed with an excellent wingman?”

Kei felt his face get hot. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Kei had only witnessed three of Kuroo's attempts to hook his teammates up with various crushes.

Oikawa nodded. "Of course, of course. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet. You may not have seen the man in action."

Kei recalled that Oikawa and Iwaizumi hadn't been at the house party last night.

Oikawa wrapped an arm around Kei's shoulder, straining only a little bit to reach. "Doesn't matter. _Anyway._ All I'm saying is, consider the job done."

Kei leaned away as far as he could. "Consider _what_ job done?"

Oikawa reached out and dragged Iwaizumi into an awkward group huddle. "Say hello to your wingmen extraordinaire."

"Oh my god, he doesn't need _wingmen_ ," Iwaizumi protested, bent awkwardly under Oikawa's arm.

"So true, so true.” Oikawa shoved Iwaizumi away. “Say hello to your wing _man_ extraordinaire. I'm much better than Iwa-chan at this sort of thing anyway," he added conspiratorially.

Iwaizumi opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again with a long-suffering sigh.

Kei was certain his face was going to be red for the rest of his life. He thought about saying, _fuck no,_ or _who do you think you are,_ or _it's not like that, are you kidding?_ What came out of his mouth instead was, "Well. Um. Which... which way to the gym?"

* * *

 

Kei could have found the gym on his own. The university's athletic department wasn't that large. But walking in with Oikawa certainly eliminated a few butterflies.

Oikawa joked and laughed and bumped fists with every teammate he passed, and Kei recognized his own envy. That ease around people, that lack of self-consciousness... it seemed to be a common thread among players he admired. Sugawara. Daichi. Hinata (though Kei would sooner die than tell him). Oikawa. And of course... Kei tried to look discreetly around the court at the players already warming up.

Kuroo was on the floor on the other side of the net, stretching over one knee. He looked up from laughing at something a teammate said. Brown eyes caught Kei’s. There was a soft, closed-mouth smile.

"Lose your way, Tsukishima?"

Kei whipped his head to face front. Coach Hirata was standing in front of him, a volleyball balanced on one hip. Tall, dark, and serious, she didn't look the sort of coach who brooked late arrivals to pregame warmups. She _really_ didn't look the sort of coach who would be cool with teammates dating team--

"Pardon me, ma'am." Kei bowed. "I ran into Oikawa."

"Yes." Her gaze slid off him to follow Oikawa still gadding around the court. "He has that effect. Well." She glanced at him. "You're welcome to stretch with the team, but when they start running drills, come to the bench. An assistant can explain the sequences."

"Yes, ma'am." But he was speaking to her back.

"Hirata-san is a little chilly at first, but you get used to it."

Kei jerked away from the voice at his shoulder. "Kuroo," he said, exasperated.

Kuroo grinned, that feral cat smirk that never failed to get under Kei's skin. "You made it."

Kei looked him over. His skin wasn't gray anymore. His eyes had their (horribly attractive) shine back. He still had on his full warmup suit. Kei wished not for the first time that he wasn't such a sucker for a guy in athletic gear.

"It's part of the interview process." Kei walked to the bench. "So I'd better be here."

"Come help me stretch, Tsukki," Kuroo wheedled behind him.

Kei set his bag down. Coach Hirata had said he could... He turned around and shrugged. Tried to ignore how Kuroo's eyes lit up. Mixed signals were stupid, and he wouldn't be paying attention to them anymore, thank you very much.

"So how'd the interview go?" Kuroo bent to touch his toes and looked up at Kei. Which was an unfair thing to do someone after you'd told them that kissing was unprofessional.

Kei sat on the court and went into a butterfly stretch. Stretching was never a wasted activity, and if it kept his mind focused on his _own_ body... "Fine. Kojimo-san spoke the majority of the time."

"Ah. He's like that." Kuroo let his head hang down as he deepened the stretch, placing both hands flat on the ground. It usually took Kei an hour of activity before he could do that. "His specialty is putting people at ease."

"He seemed like the one in charge." Kei focused on the wood grain of the court.

Kuroo hummed and straightened, pulling one leg behind him. His quad lengthened, tight against his pants. "Well, he's the head coach, so I guess it's good he gives that impression. But Hirata-san's the one you gotta pay attention to. She's the strategist, really. If you have ideas about play, take ‘em to her."

"Mm." Kei wondered if he'd have to turn his back to Kuroo completely. These were good tips about the infrastructure of the team, but dammitall if he couldn't concentrate on anything but how effortlessly Kuroo stayed balanced on one foot. _I mean, look at him. Totally relaxed, all the way through his hips and shoulders. Loose as a—_

Kuroo raised both eyebrows, and Kei realized he'd been watching a little too closely. He went into a spiral twist to hide his face. "Congratulations on not looking like death warmed over anymore."

"Ohhh, yeah." Kuroo laughed. "Extra-strength pain meds and a shit-ton of water. Plus, I'm kind of excited."

Kei's heart gave a traitorous jolt. "Good team tonight?"

"Mmm, they're all right. Nothing we should have too much trouble with."

Kei twisted the other direction and couldn't stop himself from looking up. Kuroo’s grin was infectious. No one would have been able to tell the guy had been hungover as hell a few hours earlier. "You just get like this before every game or what?"

Kuroo's grin widened. "Aw, come on, really? This is the first time you've seen me play in two years!"

Kei's mouth dropped open. "That's... what?"

"I've gotten to see _you_ play." Kuroo tucked an arm behind his head and pulled his elbow up straight. The stretch made him duck his head a little, and it should not have been as hot as it was to see brown eyes shining at him through a hank of black hair. "You've gotten to show off in your games for the last year. Now it's my turn."

"I—! I do not _show off_ ," Kei spat.

"You love it," Kuroo said breezily.

"I think you're confusing me with a tiny redhead." If anyone wanted to talk about showoffs, Hinata Shouyou had it covered for Karasuno.

"Tsukki." Kuroo dropped both arms and put his hands on his hips. His smile was evil. "I would _never_."

Kei stared.

A whistle blared. "Drills!"

* * *

 

The coaches' assistant was an attractive, petite young man who explained the drill sequences well. When the opposing team came out of the guest locker rooms, he summarized their strengths and weaknesses clearly. When the game began, he demonstrated how the coaches preferred to keep stats, and he would occasionally lean in close to describe the benefits of the current rotation.

In short, the guy was engaging and clever, and Kei could not for the life of him recall his name. Because if Kuroo intended to show off during this game, he was annoyingly successful.

Kei couldn't take his eyes off him. Kuroo and Aone were a stunning pair at the net. Dark and pale. Lean and dense. Loud and silent. Both of them unstoppable, both of them clearly intimidating their opponents. But where Aone radiated quiet, undeniable strength, Kuroo pulsed with a dynamism that Kei felt coming up from the court through his shoes. Every reaction was intense, every hit was a bomb going off, all of it accompanied by a groan, a roar, a punch in the air.

It was like Aone and Kuroo didn't even have to think.

They just were.

They just moved, a reaction to some kind of hive mind.

Everywhere a spiker wanted to be, there was that damned black-and-white, two-headed monster.

"Tsukishima? Tsukishima-kun..."

Kei glanced down. The assistant was at his shoulder, a hand cupped by his mouth.

"Tsukishima, you've missed a few plays. If you want to fill them in..." He handed over his book with a wink. "I won't tell."

Heart thundering in his ears, Kei took the book with what he hoped was a suave smile. "Thanks. Won't happen again." He bent over the paperwork, one thought roaring through his brain:

_Goddamn. I can't wait to play with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just bleh. writing is hard.  
> also, no, i have never seen a female coach for a men's college team. if that bothers anyone, scream loudly at your computer screen. i'll hear it.


	5. Chapter 5

Kei was on his third request for stats updates from the coaches’ assistant. The opposing team shouldn’t have closed the gap as much as they had, but a few sloppy moments resulted in the loss of the second set and Kei’s ability to multitask.

No single person was to blame, Kei knew that. But the change in Kuroo was palpable.

His energy had turned grim. The cocky grins were long gone. Sweat soaked his uniform and slicked his hair. There might have been a couple glances toward the bench during the first set, but Kei doubted Kuroo remembered there was any audience at all.

The opposing team blocked successfully, and the ball dumped just behind him. “Don’t mind, don’t mind,” his teammates chanted, and Kuroo accepted an encouraging thump on his back from Aone. He nodded once, shortly.

Kei’s heart was in his throat.

Oikawa subbed out for Daishou after a particularly brutal volley, sweat pouring from his hairline. He downed an entire water bottle in ten seconds. Current front-row rotation was Aone, Kuroo, and Daishou.

Kuroo had promised that Daishou would do everything to win the game, just like always. He wouldn’t throw away a win just to make good on a promise to tattle. _What’s the worst that could happen?_ Kei chided himself. _No coach is going to believe that one player lost the game for everyone else. Just because Kuroo was a little hungover. Because he messed around with a high-school recruit the night before._

Oh god. Kei would have buried his face in his hands if he could have taken his eyes off the court.

“You’re awfully invested in the game.” The assistant edged closer on the bench. “You’re pretty serious about playing here, huh?”

Kei mumbled something about the players just being really skilled and leaned forward to cut off more conversation.

Both teams were tired, and the span of points waffled between three, two, one point either way. The opposing team called a time-out at the set point, and Kei groaned with the rest of the bench.

Coach Hirata knew exactly how to speak to her team: encouragement and drive with a healthy dose of realism. Kei watched shoulders relax in the circle around her. The game was routine, they had all the experience they needed, there was no question they could do this.

Kei bit the inside of his cheek. But. They were all still breathing like racehorses. And if they didn’t make this happen _now_ , then the set would go to whichever team could scrape out a two-point lead first. Kei didn’t know about the team, but he was pretty sure _he_ wouldn’t be able to handle it.

The buzzer sounded the end of the timeout, and the team gave a short rallying cry. Not that Kei was watching, but Kuroo looked straight at him before he turned back to the court. For one serious moment, he looked exhausted. Then the cockiest grin in the world was back in place.

 _Watch this_ , Kuroo mouthed, and flashed a two-fingered salute.

Kei told himself it looked stupid.

The other team received the serve easily, but Nishinoya was there for their spike. He gave it a lovely arc, with plenty of time for Daishou to get underneath it. A short toss, quick and evil, and Kuroo was above the net, bending himself in half. The ball smashed into the floor in front of the other team’s libero.

Kuroo shot back into the air with an ear-splitting roar. The entire bench erupted, screaming.

Except for Kei.

He doubted his legs would support him. He settled for letting his head fall into his hands and putting his heart back in his chest.

 _My god. Oh my god... holy shit._ Kei closed his eyes to the chaos around him. It was fine. Probably nothing would have happened anyway. He’d gotten all worked up over nothing. He exhaled slow—

“Tsu _kkkkiiiiiiiiiii!_ ” A shoulder connected with his gut, arms were thrown around his waist. “Tsukki!” Kuroo knelt in front of him, beaming a thousand-watt grin. “How about _that_ , yeah? We won!”

Kei stared down at him. Kuroo was in his _lap._ “My god,” he forced out. “If you had a tail, it would be wagging.” He did not let himself pat Kuroo’s head and gripped the edge of the bench instead. His eyes were shining, his teeth brilliant and gleaming, face pink with exhilaration. He was unfairly beautiful.

Oikawa sashayed up to them, an eyebrow raised. Kei silently dared him to say anything.

Oikawa arranged an innocent look on his face and knelt next to Kuroo. “Sooo, where are we going after the game, Kuroo-san?” He leaned on the bench, chin in hand, and batted his lashes. “Just say where, champ.”

Kuroo removed himself from Kei’s lap to give Oikawa’s sweaty head a shove. “Captains decide. That’s how it works.”

Nishinoya crashed into Kuroo’s other side, sliding on his kneepads. “Wasn’t that awesome, Tsukishima??” Nishinoya’s hair looked like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket. “What a KILL, that was _amazing,_ we were all, like, _connected_ , I could just _feel_ you were gonna make ‘em EAT it!”

Kei stared down at the three rather attractive athletes kneeling in front of him. This was not an everyday occurrence. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

Aone loomed behind Kuroo suddenly. “Are we drinking somewhere tonight? We should go somewhere with a good kitchen.”

Nishinoya flopped back on his hands to stare upside down at Aone. “Ooo, ooo! We should go to Tanaka’s place! Cheap booze, and I swear the food is, like, an aphrodisiac.”

Aone appeared to take this into weighty consideration, even as Kei thought, _Tanaka? Tanaka Ryuunosuke? From Karasuno?_ And since when did Nishinoya know words like aphrodisiac?

“What makes you say that?” Oikawa leaned across Kuroo with interest.

Nishinoya’s smirk held multitudes. “Oh, I’ve seen things, man. _I’ve seen things._ ”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?” He got to his feet.

“Oikawa?” Kuroo sounded a little worried. “The captains?”

“It’s a good thing they both love me,” Oikawa tossed over his shoulder. “And completely respect my input on all team activities.”

* * *

 

Oikawa may have actually not been lying about his influence. An hour later, Kei found himself seated at the longest table in the smallest bar he’d ever seen. With the men’s volleyball team filling up the place, there wasn’t any space you could have called ‘personal.’

Kuroo was shoved up tight next to him, their shoulders in constant contact. At least he didn’t look completely unaffected by it. He picked at the tab on his beer can, cheeks pink, and very carefully did not look at Kei.

It always did Kei’s heart good to observe that someone else was feeling just as awkward as he was. He could feign confidence and know that the other person would probably buy it. He grabbed his chuhai and took a showy sip. “I would have thought you’d be more relaxed.” He kept it low enough for just Kuroo to hear. “Being the star of the show and everything.”

Kuroo coughed into his beer. “Who’s not relaxed? Perfectly relaxed.” He wiped his chin. “And no one’s the star on a team sport.”

“Oh? Did I misinterpret how you’re being groomed to be the ace next year?” _I could be blocking with the ace next year._ Kei shifted subtly, pressing his hip not-at-all-on-purpose into Kuroo’s thigh. He was being a prat, he knew it. Still, if Kuroo was going to keep up the wise-senpai act, he could damn well pay the price.

Kuroo looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Lots of other guys on the team,” he said. But he softly pushed back against Kei’s hip.

Kei smirked and leaned his elbows on the table. “Are any of them as good as you?” He didn’t miss how Kuroo’s eyes traced a quick path across his face. _Yeah. Tell me how we were unprofessional and how it won’t happen again and—_

Voices rose at the front of the pub, and Kuroo glanced away, blinking rapidly. Relief came off him in waves. He half-stood, waving a hand. “Kenmaaaa!!”

Kei’s mouth fell open. Trapped underneath Oikawa’s arm, Kenma Kozume stumbled through the curtains of the bar. With his soft bleached hair and his delicate mouth pinched thin in annoyance. Kuroo’s best friend from high school. Kuroo’s _beautiful_ best friend.

Kei wanted to register a complaint with the universe.

“Heeeeyyyy, look what we found hovering around the front door!” Oikawa squealed, pulling the small blonde even closer to him. “Poor little thing wasn’t sure if he had the right place, so we showed him in.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and pushed in past Oikawa. Kenma shoved out from under his arm. “You _told me_ it was this—”

“Oh, look, there’s Kuroo over there,” Oikawa interrupted, making a beeline for them. “And, my word, if it isn’t little Tsukishima! _You_ remember.” He nudged Kenma dramatically. “From Karasuno!”

Kei couldn’t read Kenma’s face and hoped to god it was mutual. Kenma had been a very capable setter for Nekoma, but that was the extent of Kei’s knowledge of him. That and he seemed to have Kuroo’s unwavering affection, which had rather soured Kei on any desire to get to know him better.

But let no one say that Kei wasn’t gracious in defeat. He stood and offered a small bow. “Kenma-san. The table is crowded. Please take my seat.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow, but Oikawa flapped a hand. “No, no, of _course not!_ Tsukishima, ha ha!” His laugh was high. “You’re the guest this weekend! Kuroo, come on, the old men’ll go over to the bar.”

“What? If we’re the old men, we should get the table,” Iwaizumi protested. He was silenced with an elbow to the ribs.

“ _Nonsense_ ,” Oikawa hissed. “I’m sure Tsukishima and Kenma have scads of things to catch up on, let’s leave them to it. Kuroo, let’s bully the captains into buying us a drink.”

“Um?” Kuroo glanced at Kei, a gesture that was appreciated. He and Kenma had probably exchanged three sentences in their entire lives. _Plenty to catch up on,_ what the hell was Oikawa thinking?

“By all means,” Kei heard himself say. “Free drinks two nights in a row, I don’t blame you.”

Kuroo shot him a sharp look. “Right.” He got to his feet. He leaned close before he left. “But just so you _don’t_ blame me, I’m only having beer tonight.”

Kei watched him walk away with Oikawa and Iwaizumi until the crowd swallowed them. He wished he’d changed out of his Karasuno warmups. He was too damn hot all of a sudden.

“Your mouth is open,” Kenma observed.

Kei clamped his jaw together so quickly his teeth clicked. “Is not.” Always a very mature response.

Kenma slouched into the seat Kuroo had vacated. “Damn Oikawa, couldn’t even let me get a drink first.”

Wordlessly, Kei slid his obscenely fruity drink over. Somehow he’d lost interest.

Kenma eyed the can, then shrugged. He drank in silence for a moment while Kei tried not to fidget. Leaving someone alone with the best friend of their crush didn’t seem to be the mark of a great wingman. He might give Oikawa notes later.

“So.” Kenma cleared his throat. “How’d your interview go?”

Small talk. Excellent. “Fabulously. I’m expecting an offer as soon as I get back home.”

Kenma nodded, either not surprised or unconcerned.

Kei should not have to deal with this. He was dreadful at pretending to care. “Do you live close by?”

“Near enough? Plenty of cheap housing near universities even if you’re not a student.”

“Ah. You’re working?”

“Got a paid internship with a startup design firm. It’s enough for now.”

“Hm. You must be able to come celebrate with Kuroo-san all the time.” Kei flashed an unwelcoming smile. “I bet he appreciates that.”

Kenma sighed. “I told Oikawa this was a dumb idea.” He turned in his seat just enough to face Kei. “I come to games sometimes. I go out afterward _sometimes._ But I’ve got a lot riding on this internship, so Kuroo and I usually hang out at my place over cup ramen while I keep working. I chose this over college, and if it doesn’t pan out, I’m gonna have hell to pay with my family.”

Kei stared at him. He’d always figured Kenma was a little unambitious. Content to just coast through on as little effort as possible. Now looking at his determined scowl, Kei felt so much like a high schooler it hurt. “O-oh.” He wracked his brain for something mature to say. “Must have been an important game today then?”

Kenma was expressionless. “Not really.”

“... oh.”

“Not unless you count the fact that he decided to stake his entire college athletic career on it like a moron.”

Kei’s head snapped up.

“So I never got the whole story out of him.” Kenma looked at him flatly. “I kind of think he regrets calling me about it. Daishou caught you two, what, fucking at the house? Threatened to tell the coach?”

“We — _fucking?_ — no!” Kei choked on his own spit. _Oh my god, he told Kenma about that??_ Kei was a flood of embarrassment and painful desire to know exactly what had been said in detail.

“Yeah, he wouldn’t have gone that far.” Kenma took a thoughtful sip of (Kei’s) chuhai. “He called me in a panic last night, the stupid drunk. Didn’t really make sense, but I got that you and he finally made good on your sexual frustration—”

Kei frowned. _Well, not really._

“—and Daishou got in the way. Daishou ruins things.”

 _He does._ A weekend alone in Kuroo’s room, and they’d had one short-lived kiss in the backyard. Daishou hadn’t joined the team at the pub, and Kei firmly hoped the little shit had been too embarrassed to show his face.

“So when Oikawa texted me to come out after the game, I figured I should.”

“Sweet of you.” Kei’s voice was clipped. “But they won. And I’m going home tomorrow morning. Crisis averted.”

Kenma sighed. “What did Kuroo say?”

“Um?”

“There’s no way Mr. Solve Everyone’s Problems was going to let all this go under the bridge without overanalyzing it,” Kenma pointed out. “He must have said something to you about it.”

Kei thought about saying it wasn’t any of Kenma’s concern. He thought about saying he and Oikawa could mind their own business starting now. He thought about lying, something flippant and worldly about how it was all just nonsense over a simple kiss.

Instead, he heard himself say, in a quiet voice, “He said he was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again.”

When Kenma said nothing, Kei risked a peek. Kenma’s eyes were closed, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “So. Much. _Work._ Look. Kuroo has to protect everyone.”

Kei blinked.

“Well, he does. Dunno if he learned that as captain in high school or what, but it’s a thing. And surrounded by all these meatheads now—” Kenma waved a hand at the packed bar. “—he’ll talk anyone into or out of anything if he thinks it’s for their own good.”

Images of Kuroo’s matchmaking moves at the party last night flashed through Kei’s mind, ending with the couple he had pretty much told to get a room.

“Including himself,” Kenma added. “And his...” He trailed off, shooting Kei a quick glance. “Well. He does that.”

Kei licked his lips. He could still taste traces of the drink that Kenma had all but finished for him. “So Oikawa wanted you to show up just so you could tell me how Kuroo is some kind of Mr. Fix It?”

“No. Oikawa wanted me to join forces in some kind of wingman fantasy he’s all excited about.” Kenma winced. Kei could only imagine what had been said. “I don’t have time — or interest, not even for Kuroo — for shit like that. But.” He glanced at Kei. “Well, you decided to suck his face off in his backyard. I guess I wondered if you were cool with him making all the rest of the decisions about you guys.”

Heat flooded Kei’s cheeks. Kenma always looked serious, but this was something bordering on older brother/protective parent. “I... I’m going home tomorrow,” he said again stupidly.

“And? You’re gonna be back in like six months, right?”

Kei barked a surprised laugh. “That’s not really... I’m not playing here _just because—_ ”

Kenma shrugged. “You’re the only one who knows if you’re interested in him or not. And who knows, maybe it’s not for the best anyway. I mean, if you’re gonna play volleyball together, maybe it would just complicate things.”

Of course Kei had thought about that. How the dynamics would change, how they could affect an entire team, an entire _season_ of a university’s athletic history. And Oikawa hadn’t exactly suggested that in-team dating was going to be overlooked by the coaches, so they’d probably have to sneak around, which wouldn’t be terrifying at all—

“Holy _shit_ , you guys, you guys, did you _see Asahi-san’s arm?!_ ”

Kei sat back quickly as a hairy arm was shoved under his nose. Kenma leaned over it, eyeing the sloppy characters scrawled over the skin. “‘Nishinoya Yuu,’” he read.

As one, Kei and Kenma looked up into the bright red face of Azumane Asahi. To his right, Nishinoya clung to his other arm, beaming. On his left, Kei recognized Tanaka Ryuunosuke, recently graduated Karasuno alum. Like Kenma, Tanaka had opted for the workforce immediately instead of college. Just as well, really. Kei recalled his grades hadn’t been anything remarkable. And just behind Tanaka — Kei’s mouth went dry. Kuroo caught his eye and winked.

Tanaka cackled as Azumane yanked his arm back. “I _tried_ to wash it off!” he claimed, embarrassment coming off him like steam. Nishinoya gave a delighted laugh, and Kuroo shoved the back of Azumane’s head playfully.

Kei felt like he was the only one missing the joke. They were dating, right? Who cared if Azumane had Nishinoya’s name on his arm in what appeared to be permanent marker?

Tanaka theatrically wiped away a tear. “Was this your idea too, Kuroo-san?”

“Absolutely not.” Kuroo waved his beer. “I can only take credit for a small handful of tasteful text messages early this morning.”

“Tasteful?” Azumane blurted. “I swear to god, I think my phone died of second-hand embarrassment! Particularly from you and Riri, I’ve never seen such—!”

“No, no, Asahi-san, remember?” Nishinoya cut in. “Your phone died cuz you forgot to plug it in last night.”

Kuroo and Tanaka howled. “Kuroo-san, Kuroo-san... do you think Asahi-san forgot to _plug it in_ last night?” “Such an accusation, Tanaka-san! I have every confidence he _did plug it in last night_.”

Nishinoya dissolved into giggles as Azumane roared at all three of them. Kenma sighed and looked on, bemused.

 _Oh._ The sudden lightbulb in Kei’s head was giving off a surprising amount of heat. _OH._

He glanced from one to the other. Other than the redness of Azumane’s face, there was no difference. They both looked the same. Nishinoya had played admirably in the game that afternoon. In fact, if Tanaka and Kuroo weren’t being perfectly awful right now, no one could have possibly known anything had happened between Azumane and Nishinoya last night.

Kei permitted himself a subtle glance at Kuroo. Fucking Kuroo, with his team jacket and his horrible bedhead and his beautiful neck and his stupid cheekbones.

_Hm._

* * *

 

“Two beers, Tsukki, congratulate me!” Kuroo turned back from waving at Tanaka in the doorway of the pub. “Think of all that money saved.”

“Not to mention dignity.” Kei put his hands in his jacket pockets and walked on in what he hoped was the direction of the volleyball team’s house. “Oh wait, except you teased Azumane and Nishinoya like a twelve-year-old. So not much dignity saved after all.”

“They loved it.” Kuroo fell into step with him. “I acknowledged their bridal night. It had to be celebrated.”

“You buy a round for every couple you know upon consummation?” Kei was pleased he sounded disinterested. _I am talking about sex with Kuroo Tetsurou. I am_ casually _talking about_ sex _with—_

“Not everyone is so deserving of honor as Azumane and Noya,” Kuroo intoned. “They are the pinnacle of adorable coupleness and must receive accolades.”

Kei raised an eyebrow. “Only two beers. You’re sure?”

“You don’t trust me,” Kuroo pouted.

Kei paused. Found his courage. And stepped in close, pretending to smell Kuroo’s breath. Kuroo froze.

“Hm.” Kei stood tall so he could look down at him. “Perhaps it was only two. I do know what you’re like when you’re really plastered after all.”

Kuroo didn’t step back. “Tsukki...” His voice held soft warning.

“You called Kenma,” Kei pressed. “You told him about last night.”

Kuroo gave a frustrated groan and ran a hand through his hair. “Little punk, is that why he showed up tonight? Make sure I behaved like a gentleman?” His smirk was self-deprecating.

Kei’s heart was pounding in his ears. He could step back. He could step back and go home in the morning and leave everything all nice and safe and tidy, just as Kuroo had made it.

Or.

“I think he wanted to let me know I didn’t have to be one.” Kei lifted Kuroo’s chin with the barest touch. He hated that his hand shook. “Congratulations on the win, Kuroo-san.”

He waited. Waited for hands on his chest to push him away. Waited for a slap to the head, a shout, something.

But Kuroo’s eyes went wide. Then, “Oh fuck my life...” and he raised his head.

The kiss was unhurried and so, so gentle, and Kei melted. All the day’s worries, the sleepless night, dripped from his shoulders and down his arms. He raised a tentative hand to Kuroo’s jacket, the other still lightly against his face. Kei half felt he could make this all shatter if he touched too much.

 _Fuck_ , he’d been so worried. Thought he’d ruined everything by being too greedy too soon last night. Thought Kuroo had seen through him last night, straight down to the insecurity and the awkwardness and the little kid who’d always been out of step with everyone he knew. And who honestly would want to hook up with that?

Kuroo’s hands slipped behind his elbows. Thumbs massaged into his biceps. He pulled away just enough to let his lips brush the corner of Kei’s mouth. “Is that how Karasuno gives congratulations now?”

Wit was slowly abandoning him, but Kei did his best. “Thought I’d try something new for college.”

Kuroo leaned back to stare, then laughed. “Your glasses are fogged up.”

 _Shit._ Kei pulled his glasses off hurriedly, wiped them on his T-shirt. So much for being suave. “It happens. The pub was hot, and it’s kind of cool out now, and—”

A sound made him look up.

Kuroo’s hand was over his mouth. Kei cocked his head. “Kuroo-san?”

“Sorry! Sorry.” Kuroo reached out, rubbed a thumb over Kei’s cheekbone. “I just... you’re always wearing your glasses, you know, and. Um.”

“I never liked the way I looked with contacts.” Kei felt like he had to say something. He had to look away, had to look at the ground, anything. He must seem so inexperienced, so—

Kuroo’s hands tightened on his Karasuno jacket, tugged him forward until their lips met. “Tsukki,” he mumbled, sloppy against Kei’s mouth, “tell me. My god, should we...? I can, I can find you another place...” He trailed kisses over Kei’s jaw. “... for tonight, if you. If that would be better?”

 _Better?_ Kei’s eyes were closed, his neck angled to encourage Kuroo to maybe give that a try next. “You’re kicking me out?” he asked breathlessly. This was a weird way of going about it.

Kuroo groaned and rested his forehead against Kei’s neck. “I should. Fuck, I should. Daishou’s studying at the library tonight, but all it would take is someone else being a—”

“I’m not going somewhere else.”

“Should take you to the station. The coaches...”

“I’m leaving at eight in the morning.”

“Goddammit.” Kuroo lifted his head. “I had everything all _settled._ ”

Kei felt a thrill looking down at those brown eyes. “That’s what you get for not giving me a say.” He tried to sound cool.

Soft voices chattered in the distance. Another wave of athletes and businessmen wandered out of the pub into the cool evening. Kuroo backed away to a respectable distance. Kei tried not to look disappointed. This was it, another rejection, another “let’s be sensible about things.”

Kuroo waved to a couple teammates stumbling their way down the block, then resumed walking. “Well, you’ve got a say. And if you say, you know, hey, let’s just watch a movie tonight and say goodbye in the morning, then that’s my say too.”

Kei glanced over as they walked in silence a few steps. The tips of Kuroo’s ears were pink. Even in the streetlights that were just coming on, he could tell. “I wouldn’t say no to a movie.”

Kuroo went still for half a moment, then gave a quick nod. Eyes front, he said, “Yeah. Sure. Your pick, my collection’s on the house’s network.”

“At first.”

Kuroo’s head whipped around, eyes huge. “H-huh?”

“Movie first.” Kei walked on ahead. “Yeah, we could do it that way.” He bit back a grin as Kuroo hurried to catch up.

* * *

 

Kuroo turned the light off in his room. Kei watched him set his laptop on the desk and nearly knock over a water bottle.

At least Kei wasn’t the only ball of nerves. He was sitting on Kuroo’s bed, anxiously wondering how the two of them were going to watch a movie like this. It was easy to see the computer on the desk from here, but they would either sit up at awkward angles toward the desk or they could... well. Kind of spoon? Was that too soon, too couple-y?

Kuroo came to the bed with a tentative smile.

 _Oh god._ Kei didn’t know where to move. He was going to watch a movie with Kuroo Tetsurou, the Nekoma asshat he’d fallen for in Gym Three his first year of high school. They were going to watch a movie _on his bed_. In his room, in a house where no one (probably) cared who did what (usually).

Kei hardly noticed that the movie was starting as Kuroo tucked himself behind him. Draped his arms around Kei’s shoulders, legs on either side of his hips. A gentle tug, and Kei was leaning against Kuroo’s chest, pressing him back into the wall.

“This okay?” Kuroo’s voice was low and right next to him, and Kei forced himself not to shiver. He managed a noncommittal shrug. _Don’t appear too eager, don’t flatten him onto the bed immediately, and for the love, don’t burst into tears._ Yamaguchi would never let him hear the end of it if he burst into tears.

“Never would have taken you for a mecha fan,” Kuroo whispered, again right in his damn ear.

“Sometimes the art is good.” This one wasn’t. Kei didn’t recognize it, couldn’t remember suggesting it. He’d probably just pointed at the first thing that hadn’t looked too distracting. He didn’t want airplanes blowing up in the background while he was trying to see if Kuroo might let him fall asleep in his bed tonight.

Kuroo shifted behind him, resting his chin on Kei’s shoulder. “They really don’t take any chances on you not knowing who the villain is, do they?”

Kei wasn’t sure if he could have pointed out the villain if someone gave him five thousand yen. Kuroo smelled clean, and Kei’s back was warm against his chest.

“Oh my god, why would you go to _that_ planet? They just said it’s been uninhabited for thousands of years, you know that’s where he’s hiding.”

Kuroo’s breath was hot on his neck, and Kei didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Not that one, are you serious? That one broke two scenes ago, I can’t — yeah, what’d I say?”

Kuroo tightened a hand on Kei’s shoulder as he gestured emphatically with the other. Kei bit his lip and closed his eyes.

“Wait, what, _she’s_ the love interest? She’s not the love interest! For crying out loud, he’s only been flirting with his co-pilot the entire episode!”

A thigh tightened around Kei’s hip, and that’s when it happened. A choked gasp, impossible to hide, difficult to explain away. Kuroo yanked his attention from the laptop immediately. “Holy shit, you okay? You got a bruise there or something?”

“No,” Kei ground out. Goddammit, had Kuroo really not gotten the hint earlier about movie _first_? Presumably something else second?

“You sure?” Kuroo put a hand gently on his hip, and Kei _jerked._ “Wow, you really—”

“Oh my _god_.” Kei twisted around in Kuroo’s arms, grabbed him by his stupidly tight, perpetually black T-shirt. “Just... shut up.” With considerably less finesse than had been displayed heretofore, Kei mashed his mouth against Kuroo’s.

Kuroo made a startled noise, and it took far too long for him to put his hands back in place after snatching them away in shock, but then. _Mm._ Kuroo raked his nails up the nape of Kei’s neck.

“Bored with your fighting machines?” Kuroo asked. It was a bit too breathy to come off as smooth.

“Tired of waiting on you,” Kei retorted. He kissed the corner of Kuroo’s mouth, the fullness of his bottom lip, hoping for some kind of guidance. Some direction. _Please take control so I don’t give away how much I utterly do not know what I’m doing._

Kuroo grabbed his wrists gently. “Waiting? Are we talking about waiting now? Okay, let’s talk about waiting.” He pushed back, and Kei fell flat onto the bed. Kuroo held his wrists to either side of Kei’s face. “I have been waiting on your pretty little face to give me some kind of clue for three whole _years._ ”

Kei’s heart leaped. He tugged at his wrists a little, but very carefully not enough to make Kuroo let go. “You have the patience of a saint then.” He smirked up at him. “I’ve only been waiting like a day or something.”

Kuroo’s eyes flashed. “Such hurtful lies, Tsukki. You weren’t ogling my ass when I was teaching you everything I knew about blocking in high school?” He dipped his head, teeth going for the soft bend in Kei’s elbow.

Kei squeaked, a singularly embarrassing sound. He bent a knee and gave Kuroo’s crotch a warning nudge. “Ogling asses, huh? Is that what Nekoma and Fukurodani were up to in Gym Three?”

Kuroo gasped at the sudden pressure, and it was significantly less of an alarmed sound than Kei had been expecting. “Ts-Tsukki. Don’t.” He moved a hand warningly, hovering over Kei’s knee.

“Don’t? Which?” Kei pressed every so lightly again with his knee. And Kuroo _ground_ into him. Kei’s eyes went wide.

“F-fuckkk.” Kuroo dropped his head onto Kei’s chest. His hips moved in short jerks, like he was trying to stop himself and couldn’t. “Tsukki.” His hands were everywhere, Kei’s face, his neck, his chest. Kei sucked in a startled breath. His nipples.

Kuroo held him by one bicep, skimmed his fingers down his ribs on the other side. Too light, too teasing, and Kuroo lifted his head until Kei was panting into his mouth.

“Mm _mm_ , Tsukki, I can’t—” Kuroo’s voice was low, hurried, a mess. “Is it all right — _goddd_ , if you want me to... ssstop.”

Fuck no, Kei didn’t want him to stop. Kuroo’s face in that moment was everything he’d wanted to see for three years. Ever since that stupid phone call, when Kuroo had checked in about Kei’s injury in pre-nationals, this was the face Kei had tried to conjure in his mind.

Brown eyes heavy and focused and blown wide. Black hair sweaty and hiding his flushed forehead. Neck and shoulders and chest tensing and relaxing in beautiful harmony on top of him.

Kei had tried to picture it all. He hadn’t thought it would be courtesy of his leg covered in Karasuno warmups, but... Kuroo’s knee twitched, brushing against his own erection, and Kei threw his head back with a quiet sigh. This wasn’t something he was going to complain about.

“Tsukki...” Kuroo breathed into his neck. “Like... th — like this.” Kuroo tugged Kei’s leg down, straddled his thigh. “D-damn your fucking legs, _ah_.”

He rocked his hips hard, and Kei hissed. _Okay, shit, better._

“Kiss me.” Kuroo’s whisper was hardly enough to hear. “Kiss m-me, I’m... I want to—”

Kei grabbed his face with both hands and swallowed his gasps as he came. _I did it. I fucking did it, I got Kuroo Tetsurou_ off _, I can’t believe I...._ Kei’s mind was a tangle, and he buried his fingers in wild dark hair. Kuroo shuddered against him, once, twice.

After a pause that was hardly long enough — Kei was still riding his cloud of aroused triumph — Kuroo groaned into his chest, rolled off of him, and wrapped him up in a tight spoon. “‘m such an idiot,” he mumbled.

“Because you came on my leg?” Kei teased. He barely cared that he sounded ridiculously proud.

Kuroo laughed, spent. “Wasn’t gonna _start_ anything with you this weekend. Fuckin’ told myself.” He sighed. “Shouldn’t’ve.”

Kei reached back and landed a successful smack on Kuroo’s forehead. “What happened to me getting a say?”

“Mm.” Hands slid down Kei’s T-shirt, fingers toyed with the waistband of his pants. “Want more than a say?”

Kei’s traitorous dick twitched, but he put a hand on Kuroo’s wrist. “Just a say is fine.”

Kuroo lifted his head from Kei’s shoulder blades. “You don’t... wait, I thought...? You sure you’re good?”

This was enough. Who was he kidding, this was a fucking _lot._ He’d hate himself tomorrow, probably, for not cashing in... hell, he’d probably hate himself in a couple hours. But “Go to sleep, dumbass.” Kei wriggled back into him, grabbing the hand at his pants and tucking it under his chin like a sap.

He was sleeping with Kuroo Tetsurou. He’d just gotten Kuroo Tetsurou _off_ using nothing but his thigh. _Suck on that, Daishou._ And it was frankly the limit of what Tsukishima Kei’s three-year-old crush could handle tonight.

Kei let his breath settle, melding into a neat rhythm with the rise and fall of Kuroo’s chest against his back.


	6. Chapter 6

Kei woke once in the night. Boys trying drunkenly to be quiet banged around in the hall outside Kuroo’s room. He rolled over, accidentally putting an elbow in Kuroo’s gut. He received a sleepy grunt.

_Huh._

At some point, Kuroo must have woken up enough to take his shirt and pants off. Kei smiled because there was no one to hide it from. Two minutes after shucking his own clothes, he was falling back into warm sleep.

* * *

 

Kei’s alarm never used to be so annoying, he was sure of it. Or maybe it was Kuroo’s whiny-ass groan.

“Tsukkiiiiii....” His voice was an octave lower than it had been last night and muffled in a pillow. “Make it stoooooppp.” He curled into Kei’s side, a caterpillar in a quilt.

Kei shoved at him. Which was certainly not an excuse to touch a bare shoulder and all that smooth, delicious-looking skin. “Shut up, I’ve got it.” He rolled out of bed and scrounged for his pants.

His _pants_. Kicked off into a pile on Kuroo Tetsurou’s bedroom floor. Kei felt a flush of pride.

“You comin’ back?”

Kei glanced up from clicking off his alarm. Kuroo was peering at him from underneath a pillow, eyes heavy with sleep. Kei was very suddenly awake.

“Tch.” He turned on his heel, scooping up his bag in a way that hopefully read as natural while still hiding his morning wood. “I want to be at the station by eight. So no.” _No, I am not crawling back into bed with you half-naked and me half-hard. Not. Happening._

He was halfway out the bedroom door when he heard a faintly disappointed “boo.” Kei was grateful no one was in the hall to see him cover his face with his hand.

* * *

 

“You can’t wait out here a couple more minutes?” Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at him innocently.

Which was very unfair. Kei had wondered if he might get a good morning kiss after Kuroo brushed his teeth. He had not. He had wondered if they might hold hands on the walk to the station. They had not. Now that his train was due in two minutes, Kei was left wondering if a goodbye hug was even out of the question.

“I am not missing my train,” he said stiffly. Where was the Kuroo who had volunteered to shove his hand down Kei’s pants last night? Not here at the train station apparently.

“Right, right.” Kuroo licked his lips quickly.

Kei waited half a moment, then turned, frustrated. “Thank you for your hospitality, Kuroo-san.”

“No, wait, Tsukki.” A hand gripped his sleeve.

Kei bit back irritation and hope at the same time. The station was crowded for a Sunday morning. Nothing could happen here...

Kuroo’s fingers slipped under the cuff of his jacket, and Kei sucked in a breath. They lay heavy over the warmth of his pulse, picking up every tattle-tale beat. Kuroo stepped a fraction closer.

“Tsukki.”

There was no call for using a tone like that. No reason to pitch his voice that low or that sweet, now really. Kuroo’s fingers swept the inside of his wrist, and Kei looked down into brown eyes that did troublesome things to his insides.

“Tsukki, call me when you get off the train?”

Kei nodded. He didn’t need to actually speak, right? Perfectly normal.

“And when you get your letter from the university?”

God, Kei would be playing back this voice a lot in the future. His nod this time was a little shakier.

Kuroo laughed softly and leaned in close. Kei stared at the concrete, his face on fire. There was no way any onlookers would misread this. You couldn’t play this off as bros being dudes. “Kuroo-san...” His protest was weak.

But Kuroo didn’t kiss him. His mouth paused at Kei’s ear. “Can I text you tonight?”

 _Oh. OH. Yes, text me at night, that is a great idea, fuck, please._ Kei almost couldn’t manage a nod this time.

Kuroo huffed a short laugh, a delicious sound. “Go get your train, Tsukki.”

Tsukki barely caught it. When the train pulled away, he was still walking to a seat. Flexing his hand. Remembering the way Kuroo’s fingers felt as they slid out from underneath his jacket cuff.

* * *

 

His mom wanted to know about his new teammates. His dad wanted to know if he thought he’d be a favorite of the coaches. Akiteru was home too (of course) and wanted to know if the weekend had been fun.

Kei dutifully told his mother his teammates all seemed very talented. He demurred to his dad that no freshman was going to be a favorite on such a high-caliber team. And to Akiteru, as he tried to hide a blush: “I was there for recruitment. Not a high-school festival.”

Embarrassment flashed over Akiteru’s face, and Kei hated himself. “Well,” Akiteru managed, “that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. In fact...” He rallied. “... I don’t see how it _couldn’t_ have been, if the team’s good and the coaches are good and you still love volleyball.”

Akiteru held his gaze. It was easier a couple years ago, when he would just back down. There had been a lot less feeling involved. _Now_ , Kei felt like an asshole. “... It was fun.”

Akiteru’s brows lifted in challenge. “Was it?”

Kuroo’s stupid face flickered in Kei’s memory. Particularly his face last night, when he — “Yeah.” Kei spun on his heel, his duffel bag nearly taking out a family photo on the wall.

“Oh. Um. That’s, that’s good!” Akiteru called after him. “Mario Kart after lunch?”

“Sure.” Kei kept his voice neutral as he shut his bedroom door. He leaned against it with a hand over his mouth. Willed the heat pouring from his head to chill the fuck out. And slowly reached into his pocket.

He let his bag slip to the floor, glaring at Kuroo’s contact info on his phone.

_“Tsukki. Call me when you get off the train?”_

Kei didn’t have to call him right now. Rude, really, to expect Kei to be able to the minute he got home. He had to unpack, he wanted to shower, he had to greet his family. Transition back into his own life. Who had time to call arrogant college guys?

He wanted to hear that know-it-all voice. Wanted to hear him say “Tsukki” again, like he had some right to say it.

Kei opened a drawer in his nightstand and dropped his phone in it. Slammed it shut and started to unpack. He was not going to be that guy. He was not going to lose all sense of himself just because someone gorgeous came on Kei’s leg. Heat pooled low in his gut.

“Oh my god.” Kei grabbed his bathroom things and threw open the door.

* * *

 

Kei did not get himself off in the shower. He was efficient and controlled, and he presented himself at the kitchen table with his usual calm demeanor. He couldn’t have told anyone what they had for lunch, but he assured his mother it was excellent.

Akiteru beat him at Mario Kart five times in a row before delicately asking if he was tired. “You’ve had a long weekend,” Akiteru suggested. “Maybe you need a nap.”

Kei did not need a nap. He needed to get someone’s shaggy, dark bedhead out of his brain. He handed Akiteru his controller. “I should probably look over some chemistry actually.” It was doubtful he’d be able to absorb anything, but maybe looking at his notes would do something for the next day’s test.

Akiteru smiled, forever good-natured. “Always a dozen steps ahead.”

Hours later, Akiteru had gone home after dinner ( _he so needs a girlfriend_ ), the remains of the celebratory cake for his recruitment was packed away (“I know it’s not Thursday,” his mom had said, “but still.”), and Kei was ensconced at his desk with a fresh cup of coffee. It was a habit his dad disapproved of but didn’t object to given that at least he didn’t have his mother’s sweet tooth. Or at least, not all of it.

He eyed his phone. It was just after eight. Kei had decided before dinner that he wasn’t going to call, because A) like hell was he going to do everything exactly the way Kuroo told him to, B) texting would send a casual ‘I’m not _that_ into this’ vibe, and C) he wasn’t sure he could keep his nerves out of his voice.

_**You:** Just remembered you wanted to know when I _

Kei held down the backspace button.

_**You:** I’m home._

Perfect. He set the phone back on his desk and leaned over his notes.

 _ **Kuroo T.:** Tsukkiiiii!!!!! _＼（*´∇｀*）／  
 _ **Kuroo T.:** how was the train ride??_

The chemistry test tomorrow was going to have to be satisfied with the level of preparation Kei had managed so far. Because he wasn’t getting any more studying done tonight.

_**You:** crowded._   
_**You:** it was fine_

Kei itched to ask him what he did all day. Was he bored? Having a hard time paying attention to anything? Had he jacked off? Kei set his phone down hard on his desk _._

_**Kuroo T.:** evening practice was pretty easy today_   
_**Kuroo T.:** coach must’ve been happy with yesterday’s game_

Sweat turned the back of Kei’s neck clammy. What would he say if this was just Yamaguchi? Dammit, Yamaguchi didn’t ever text him just to chat _._ People did that?

_**Kuroo T.:** expect it’ll pick up again this week tho_   
_**Kuroo T.:** big rival coming up on sat_

Volleyball. Okay, yes. Good.

_**You:** worried?_

_**Kuroo T.:** shouldn’t be bad? if we’re perfect _(Ｔ▽Ｔ)

_**You:** how would you not be perfect?_

_**Kuroo T.:** _ (°ｏ°)

Kei raised an eyebrow. What...?

_**Kuroo T.:** awwww, thanks, Tsukki!_

_**You:** I didn’t mean it like that, idiot! _   
_**You:** i meant in what ways would your team not be perfect??_   
_**You:** like if you’re going to mess up, how would you mess up??_

_**Kuroo T.:** there is literally no way anyone would interpret that sentence that way._   
_**Kuroo T.:** but it’s all right_   
_**Kuroo T.:** your high opinion of me is a secret that will go to my grave_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i’ll never tell_

_**You:** good god_   
_**You:** how many people have told you you’re incurably arrogant? today?_

_**Kuroo T.:** now, now_   
_**Kuroo T.:** will it make you feel less embarrassed if i return the favor?_

_**You:** i’m sure i don’t know what you’re talking about_

_**Kuroo T.:** i will be much more specific than simply saying you’re perfect_

_**You:** oh my god, knock it OFF_

_**Kuroo T.:** for example, i’ll take one thing at a time instead of making a general statement_   
_**Kuroo T.:** let’s begin with the star attraction_   
_**Kuroo T.:** your legs_   
_**Kuroo T.:** it’s really unfair of you to be taller than me_   
_**Kuroo T.:** but since you have legs like that, you’re forgiven_   
_**Kuroo T.:** it’s especially odd when you’re glaring down at me through those glasses_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i mean, i should hate that, right?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** so rude, all the glaring_   
_**Kuroo T.:** and the being taller than me_   
_**Kuroo T.:** and probably smarter than me, but we won’t dwell on that_   
_**Kuroo T.:** but those glasses, man_   
_**Kuroo T.:** you’re never allowed to break them._   
_**Kuroo T.:** not that you’re not awe-inspiring without them_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i mean, THAT was a surprise yesterday let me tell you_   
_**Kuroo T.:** but yeah_   
_**Kuroo T.:** the glasses_   
_**Kuroo T.:** mmf_

Kei’s hand was covering his mouth. He wondered how long it had been like that. He wondered how long he hadn’t been breathing.

_**Kuroo T.:** Tsukki?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** that was too much wasn’t it?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** ahaha live and learn? _   
_**Kuroo T.:** i’ll tone it down_

_**You:** i hate your hair_

_**Kuroo T.:**.... i’m sorry?_

Kei gripped his phone tightly.

_**You:** i would feel a lot better about myself_   
_**You:** if i didn’t think about your weird bedhead all the time_

That wasn’t very good, was it? Oh shit, that was terrible.

 _ **Kuroo T.:** Tsukki_  
 _ **Kuroo T.:** are you trying to say you like my hair? _（*/∇＼*）

_**You:** NO_   
_**You:** i’m fairly certain i said i hate it_

_**Kuroo T.:** ah. right, yes. _   
_**Kuroo T.:** so you did_   
_**Kuroo T.:** so..._   
_**Kuroo T.:** what else do you hate about me?_

Kei closed his eyes, trying to still his shaking hands. People did this every day. Even stupid people. Kei was not stupid, ergo, he could do this.

_**You:** your face_

_**Kuroo T.:** you hate my FACE_

_**You:** you asked_

_**Kuroo T.:** i suppose_   
_**Kuroo T.:** what do you hate about my face_

_**You:** everything_   
_**You:** your cheekbones_   
_**You:** your skin_   
_**You:** eyes_   
_**You:** neck_

Kei leaned forward on his desk and buried his face in his arms. “Fffffuccck me. Fuck fuck, _what_ even am I doing.” He glanced at his phone. No response. Dammit, _dammit_ , that was too much, too forward, so completely _not chill_. Kei raised his head to stare at his wall calendar. Scrawled over last weekend’s dates were the words “Recruitment Weekend.” In bright red ink.

Maybe Takeda could check if it was too late to interview at other universities.

_**Kuroo T.:** fuck tsukki_   
_**Kuroo T.:** fuck can i call you?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** right now?_

_**You:** no_   
_**You:** not right now_

_**Kuroo T.:** later?_

_**You:** not tonight_

_**Kuroo T.:**... you do not make this easy_   
_**Kuroo T.:** you know that?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i just feel like i’m... ha_   
_**Kuroo T.:** you pull me all over the place_

Kei wiped a hand over his face. Holy god.

_**Kuroo T.:** i get it tho_   
_**Kuroo T.:** one of us needs to have our shit together_   
_**Kuroo T.:** and we’ve established it is not me_   
_**Kuroo T.:** well._   
_**Kuroo T.:** i should let you get on with your night?_

_**You:** yeah_   
_**You:** mondays are early for me_

_**Kuroo T.:** yeah_   
_**Kuroo T.:** well_   
_**Kuroo T.:** night, tsukki _

Kei sat with his head in his hands for ten minutes. He needed another shower. A fucking cold one.

* * *

 

“Have you ever sexted with anyone?”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened to the size of the melon bread he’d chosen for lunch. “Ex-excuse me?”

Kei frowned into his bento. “I really don’t think I need to repeat myself.”

“You want to know about... about sexting?”

“Do you have to sound so shocked? It’s off-putting.”

“Oh my god, are you trying to sext with _Kuroo_?” Yamaguchi edged closer on the little bench in the school courtyard.

“ _No_ ,” Kei hissed. “And keep it down, will you? If anyone else on the team hears you...”

“I am literally whispering! What have you done so far? What have you said?”

Kei sat up straight and adjusted his glasses. “Nothing has happened,” he stressed. “Calm down.”

Yamaguchi raised a sly eyebrow. “What do you _want_ to happen?”

Why had he ever thought they could have a casual, theoretical conversation on this topic? “We have exchanged a few measured compliments. That’s it.”

“... measured compliments. What compliment did you measure him with?”

Kei jabbed at last night’s pork cutlets. “I told him I like his neck,” he mumbled. When Yamaguchi didn’t respond, he made the mistake of looking up.

Both of Yamaguchi’s fists were pressed into his mouth. If eyes could squeal, his would have. “Tsukki, you are _s_ o. Cute. Did he die?”

“ _No one died._ ”

“Right, right, okay.” Yamaguchi made an exaggerated effort to compose himself. “Well, as adorable as all that is, I can only help you if you tell me what you want to have happen.”

Kei felt his throat close in panic. “Have happen?”

“I mean, are we just looking for heavy flirting? Do you want to make sure he thinks about you the next time he’s in the shower?”

“ _Yamaguchi!_ ”

“Or are we trying to go beyond that?”

“Be-beyond...?”

“Really? Wow. Well, first—”

“Wait, wait, what do you mean, beyond?” Kei asked quickly.

Yamaguchi paused. “Well, that is... beyond, you know?”

Kei stared at him.

Yamaguchi smacked a hand on his forehead. “Okay. Do you want to engage in mutual masturbation while texting each other on your individual phones while you are cities apart? And as punishment for making me say that in its entirety, I don’t care what your answer is, we are tabling that lesson for a later date.”

Even as Kei felt like so much boiling water was pouring over his head, he grinned. “So you’ve definitely sexted before.”

Yamaguchi went pink. “Sounds like it’s lucky for you that I have.”

“Who?”

“That is not what we’re talking about right now.”

“Yamaguchi, who?”

“None of your business.”

“I can’t trust any of your advice if I don’t know who.”

“ _I’m_ not the one looking for advice!”

* * *

 

Due to Yamaguchi’s staunch insistence that Kei wasn’t ready for anything so advanced as actual sexting, weeks went by with only mildly flirty texting. Kei wasn’t sure how to take things to the next level, and Kuroo had an annoying habit of claiming he had to go study or work out or do dishes (or once, that he had to kill a spider because no one else would) when things got a bit hot.

Kei was getting a little frustrated. It showed in how long his showers were taking these days.

Things were particularly bad one Friday afternoon after a nastier-than-usual practice. He kicked off his shoes as he walked through the front door, sweaty, pissed, and unfairly horny.

“Kei?” His mom poked her head around the corner from the living room. She had an odd smile on her face, like she was biting something back. “Do you have a second?”

“Of course.” It’s not like he couldn’t wait to get his room; he’d been frustrated for weeks, what was a few more minutes?

“Sit, sit.” She shoved him at the couch. “Don’t move. Close your eyes!” She darted into the kitchen.

Kei did not close his eyes. His mom didn’t seem to care as she came back into the living room, holding something behind her back. “Be very proud of me,” she said, bouncing on her toes in front of him. “I managed to not open this until you got home.”

God, she looked so excited. Kei allowed a tiny smirk. “Better let me have it then.”

With all the nervous pride of someone reading out an award, his mom held out a large envelope with both hands. Kei’s heart was in his throat at once. The university’s crest was unmistakable.

He edged it open carefully. His mom made a strangled sound. The letter wasn’t folded, the paper crisp and thick and expensive. He stared at it for several seconds. Read it three times. Ran his finger over the embossed signature of the chair of the athletic department.

“Heavens, Kei, I swear, if you don’t tell me this second—!”

“I got it.”

She sucked in a breath. “You got it?”

He looked up at her, heart beating in his ears. “I got it. They want me. Full ride. Room and board. Everything.” He held out the letter.

“No, no, don’t give it to me.” She swiped at her eyes. “I’ll get tears on it.... oh my god, _give me._ ” But she took it with reverence. “Oh, Kei.” Her smile quivered. “ _Kei_.”

He stood, moving in for the only hug that was never awkward. “You and Dad’ll come see some of my games, right?”

“All of them!” she sniffled into his shoulder.

“Mom, you can’t see all of them. Dad would die if he didn’t work every other weekend. And someone has to feed Akiteru.” He patted her hair.

“You think for a moment Akiteru’s not going to come with us?” Her indignant look didn’t quite work with a red nose and shiny eyes. “ _Ugghh_ , let go of me.” She swatted at him. “I can’t believe you’re making me eat cake twice this week!”

“No one says you have to bring a cake home _every_ Thursday.”

“Go take a shower! You reek!”

Kei was still grinning as he ran a towel over his wet hair several minutes later. The letter was laid carefully on his bed, and damn if he couldn’t take his eyes off it. He’d done it. Okay, it was just the start of a very long, steep hill, but he’d made it to the hill at least.

A thrill went through him, from his toes to the backs of his ears. Kuroo would want to know.

_Kuroo._

The familiar ache built slowly in his gut. Kei glanced at himself in his closet mirror. Sweatpants, no shirt. Towel around his neck, not one hundred percent dry everywhere. They hadn’t texted all day. Kuroo insisted he didn’t want to get in the way of Kei’s classes. Given the effect their texting was having on him, Kei grudgingly supposed it was a good idea.

But he was home. It was Friday. And Kuroo had explicitly told him once upon a time to let him know as soon as the university’s offer came through.

Kei picked up the letter like it was a sheet of glass. He lay down on his bed, feeling the clean quilt stick to the dampness of his back. He set the letter delicately over one side of his chest and held up his phone.

_**You:** [image]_

He lay there with his eyes squeezed shut, heart beating fast. This was dumb. Incredibly dumb, Kuroo didn’t want something like that, he’d literally just asked to be updated when the letter came in, he didn’t need some half-naked dork—

_**Kuroo T.:** holy shit_   
_**Kuroo T.:** what the_   
_**Kuroo T.:** fuck_   
_**Kuroo T.:**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_   
_**Kuroo T.:** is that_   
_**Kuroo T.:** okay okay one thing at a time_   
_**Kuroo T.:** breathing_   
_**Kuroo T.:** is a thing i should do_   
_**Kuroo T.:** god i sound like an_   
_**Kuroo T.:** ANYWYA_   
_**Kuroo T.:** THE LETTER_   
_**Kuroo T.:** LET’S TALK ABOUT THE LETTER_   
_**Kuroo T.:** I IMAGINE IT SAYS STUFF_   
_**Kuroo T.:** WHAT DOES IT SAY_   
_**Kuroo T.:** TSUKKI_

Kei stared until his phone stopped vibrating. Dropped the phone at his side, covered his mouth with a hand, and gave one quiet, relieved laugh.

_**You:** can you not read it?_   
_**You:** if you zoomed in, i think you might be able to_

_**Kuroo T.:** you want me to zoom in_   
_**Kuroo T.:** on that photo_

_**You:** is your eye sight that bad, Kuroo-san?_

_**Kuroo T.:** well, it WASN’T_   
_**Kuroo T.:** except now i’m pretty sure i’m blind_

Kei frowned. He wasn’t altogether certain if that was good or bad.

_**You:** it’s an offer_   
_**You:** Takeda will help me draft a formal response on Monday_

_**Kuroo T.:** and you’re taking it?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** right?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i mean, i guess you might have other offers?_

_**You:** i’m taking this one_   
_**You:** i’ll be there in august_   
_**You:**...._   
_**You:** Kuroo-san?_

_**Kuroo T.:** yes hi yeah_   
_**Kuroo T.:** definitely here_   
_**Kuroo T.:** just_   
_**Kuroo T.:** that’s good_   
_**Kuroo T.:** that’s really good i’m glad_

Kei grabbed his pillow and pulled it half over his face.

_**You:** me too_

_**Kuroo T.:** and_   
_**Kuroo T.:** now that i’ve had a minute and can pretend to be suave again_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i am also glad you sent that photo_

Kei hugged the pillow tight.

_**You:** oh?_

_**Kuroo T.:** the letter is very beautiful_

_**You:** is it?_   
_**You:** looking at the photo again, i suppose i agree. it is._

_**Kuroo T.:** it’s nice to have a photo of it_   
_**Kuroo T.:** kind of an important moment_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i like all the detail you can see_

_**You:** i particularly like the texture_   
_**You:** shows quality_

Kei was going to set his pillow on fire with his face, he just knew it.

_**Kuroo T.:** ah. yeah lots of texture_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i mean, you can’t see everything, but what’s there is definitely_   
_**Kuroo T.:** not something you see every day_

_**You:** do you receive mail regularly, Kuroo-san?_

_**Kuroo T.:** uh... wait what?_

_**You:** mail_   
_**You:** as in letters_   
_**You:** of your own_   
_**You:** that you might be inclined to take a photo of_

_**Kuroo T.:** oh! _   
_**Kuroo T.:** oh right. yeah_   
_**Kuroo T.:** just_   
_**Kuroo T.:** gimme one sec_

Kei slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. Was this really how sexting worked? How could something be a turn-on and sound so stupid at the same time?

_**Kuroo T.:** [image]_

Kei peeked at his phone. “Oh. _Shit._ ” It was only a photo of Kuroo from his neck to his hips, but there was a lot of Kuroo in between. Kei ran his eyes over sculpted shoulders, a beautiful chest, dark nipples, cut abs, and that horribly unfair V that male athletes tended to hide under their shorts. “Fuck me.”

Red basketball shorts were pulled a little lower than would have been decent in a gym, but nothing _truly_ incriminating was shown. Mostly because... Kei rotated the phone just a little... a piece of paper was resting strategically over Kuroo’s hips.

_**You:** is that a biology quiz?_

_**Kuroo T.:** and we’re talking about that first. of course_

_**You:** let’s talk about that grade_   
_**You:** is this what college athletes can get away with?_   
_**You:** because if so, i think i’ll just sleep the rest of the semester_

_**Kuroo T.:** haha okay look_   
_**Kuroo T.:** if i’d known this was happening i might have tried a little harder on the test all right?_

_**You:** this is the kind of incentive you need to do well in school?_   
_**You:** i hesitate to imagine what your photo library looks like_

_**Kuroo T.:** which means you’re imagining it_

_**You:** i am doing no such thing_   
_**You:** not even a little bit_   
_**You:** am i wondering if there are other photos of you like that on your phone_

_**Kuroo T.:** maybe if you were appreciative of the one you just got, you might find out_   
_**Kuroo T.:** rude people don’t get to have nice things_

_**You:** it’s not polite to fish for compliments_   
_**You:** but obviously you need encouragement_   
_**You:** so if this will bring up your grade_

_**Kuroo T.:** i and my grade are listening_

_**You:** i might start with the observation that you seem to be working out regularly_   
_**You:** and i appreciate that you thought to include your neck in the shot_

_**Kuroo T.:** oh right!_   
_**Kuroo T.:** you like my neck_

_**You:** as if you forgot_

_**Kuroo T.:** fair. still amazed it does anything for you_

Kei scrolled up to examine the selfie with a critical eye. It was a damn fine neck. Long and shapely, with delicate cords and veins, just ready for—

_**You:** in absence of the real thing, a photo is much appreciated_

_**Kuroo T.:** yeah? _   
_**Kuroo T.:** and if the real thing was nearby?_

Kei sucked in a breath. This was it. Holy shit, this was what people talked about.

_**Kuroo T.:** ahhh, i can reel that back, sorry, you can ignore that_

_**You:** depends on how... available?... the real thing was_   
_**You:** if you were here, that is_   
_**You:** hypothetically_

_**Kuroo T.:** so available_   
_**Kuroo T.:** very available_   
_**Kuroo T.:** all the yes_

_**You:** oh_   
_**You:** well_   
_**You:** in that case_

In that case, what?? Kei gripped his sweatpants with one hand and the phone with the other. Fuck, he’d been half-hard the majority of the day, how did anyone move this stuff forward?

_**You:** i would imagine_   
_**You:** a neck that looks like that is pretty sensitive_   
_**You:** definitely couldn’t start with teeth_

Kei ducked behind the pillow and waited for the phone to vibrate. He sounded like an idiot. Kuroo had to be laughing at him.

_**Kuroo T.:** well_   
_**Kuroo T.:** what about teeth later?_

_**You:** you’d be okay with that?_

_**Kuroo T.:** we should find out_

_**You:** what if the team saw the next day or something?_

_**Kuroo T.:** damn_   
_**Kuroo T.:** not gonna lie, that’d be_   
_**Kuroo T.:** we wouldn’t have to tell them it was you_

Goddamn. Kei pressed his head back into the mattress, eyes closed, and ran a hand over his neck.

_**Kuroo T.:** wouldn’t have to tell anyone_   
_**Kuroo T.:** that the bite marks were from you_   
_**Kuroo T.:** or that i’m the reason you can’t ever wake up in time for morning practice_

_**You:** someone’s confident_

_**Kuroo T.:** maybe not confident_   
_**Kuroo T.:** but super willing to try_

_**You:** try? to make me lose sleep?_   
_**You:** i’m pretty dedicated to my eight hours_

_**Kuroo T.:** what if i tried really hard to figure it out?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** what you’d be willing to lose sleep for?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** like, for example_

Kei’s breath was shallow. Kuroo was taking too long, but the frustration wasn’t anything like he’d been feeling all day. For weeks. The heat was sweet this time, not feverish. _What would you try? Tell me, fuck, tell me._

_**Kuroo T.:** you’re so long._   
_**Kuroo T.:** and i don’t mean that, like, anything vulgar, i mean_   
_**Kuroo T.:** just your arms and legs and your torso and hell, your neck too_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i could keep you awake just running my hands over them_   
_**Kuroo T.:** see what you liked, what you didn’t like_

_**You:** i’d like all of it_

_**Kuroo T.:** wow_   
_**Kuroo T.:** yes yeah_   
_**Kuroo T.:** me too_   
_**Kuroo T.:** fuck me, i shouldn’t but_   
_**Kuroo T.:** there’s no part of you i don’t want to touch_

Kei pressed the back of his hand into his mouth to stop a groan. That was unfair, that was _unfair_. He was tenting his sweatpants now, and he wasn’t sure if this was how it was supposed to go. Were you supposed to tell the other person when...? Kei didn’t think he could handle that level of vulnerability. But he slipped a hand under his waistband.

_**Kuroo T.:** it’s been like that for_   
_**Kuroo T.:** fuck_   
_**Kuroo T.:** years_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i just wanted to play volleyball with you. first._   
_**Kuroo T.:** and then you were just_   
_**Kuroo T.:** god so beautiful to watch_   
_**Kuroo T.:** and you don’t have any clue do you_   
_**Kuroo T.:** how you drive me crazy_

Kei was really good at staying quiet. It was the one benefit of his shitty personality; he could get off pretty much anywhere, and no one would ever know. He dragged a hand over himself, trying to make sure he didn’t type anything weird by accident.

_**Kuroo T.:** tsukki? say something_   
_**Kuroo T.:** if i’m being an idiot tell me_   
_**Kuroo T.:** you gotta let me know if _   
_**Kuroo T.:** i’m, you know, doing anything wrong or_

_**You:** nothing wrong_   
_**You:** beautiful_

_**Kuroo T.:** yeah? _   
_**Kuroo T.:** well that’s a relief i guess_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i can’t believe_   
_**Kuroo T.:** that weekend, you blew me away, you know that?_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i still can’t believe you ever let me touch you_

_**You:** would again_

_**Kuroo T.:** fuck_   
_**Kuroo T.:**.... tsukki?_

Kei felt sweat on his chest. Heat building from inside, fighting with skin cooled from his shower. Hair was standing up all over his arms, over his chest, his nipples hard.

_**Kuroo T.:** tsukki_   
_**Kuroo T.:** i can’t believe i’m asking this_

He tugged at himself, twice, then a long slow stroke made him arch his back off the bed and spread his knees.

_**Kuroo T.:** are you_   
_**Kuroo T.:** right now, are you touching yourself?_

His mouth fell open as he came over his stomach, head pressed back into his pillow, hips digging into the rumpled quilt.

_**Kuroo T.:** oh my god_   
_**Kuroo T.:** tsukki_

Everything in him melted into the mattress, legs stretching out until his feet fell off the end of the bed. Kei wiped a hand on his sweatpants, lazily reached for his phone. Missed it once.

_**You:** am i touching myself?_   
_**You:** right now?_   
_**You:** no_

He smirked as the phone vibrated out of his grasp. He let it fall from his hand, too relaxed, too stupidly content to care where it landed. He fell asleep listening to text after text rumble on his bedroom floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well  
> THAT was fun to write!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER HOLY SHIT.

Kuroo was coming to his high-school graduation.

Kei didn’t really remember inviting him. He couldn’t even pinpoint the moment in their (daily. It was getting absurd) texting when the idea went from Completely Implausible to Kuroo’s Coming to Karasuno.

“Are you picking up Kuroo-san at the station today?” Hinata asked him after an informal match with the remaining team.

Kei’s head snapped up from lacing his street shoes.

“Oh, Kenma told me he was coming to see you graduate.” Hinata’s expression was innocent. Even after three years together, Kei never quite trusted he was as naive as he looked.

“You’re graduating too, dumbass.”

Hinata lowered his lashes in a knowing look that was far too similar to Yamaguchi these days. “I’ll have to thank Kuroo-san for coming all this way just to congratulate me.”

“You chat with Kenma a lot?” Kei stood, but he doubted the conversation was over.

“Kind of.” Hinata shrugged and trotted out of the gym after Kei. “Kenma says you guys got real chummy after your recruiting weekend.” Huge brown eyes looked up at him. “Must have, if he’s coming to a rival school’s graduation, huh?”

Kei stared straight ahead, trying to keep his mind off last night’s texts. “If I buy you a meat bun, will you shut up?”

Hinata did not shut up, not even after the meat bun. Kei’s face was still bright red from his suggestive needling hours later. Kuroo's text had said his train was just pulling into the station. Kei planned to blame his flushed skin on the unseasonable chill.

Goddamn, he still hadn't settled on how their meeting should go.

Like, well. Hugs? A discreet peck on the cheek? Kei wiped a hand over his face. _Out of the question._ The station was as public as you could get in Miyagi. They hadn't even seen each other since the recruiting weekend. Daily texting and a few late-night calls weren't any substitute for being face to face. No matter how steamy things got over the phone.

Which they hadn't!

Not really.

At least, Kei had never let on about his own activities. No matter how much he wondered— "Oh god." He nearly tripped over his own feet.

Kuroo was already outside the station. He leaned casually against his carryon suitcase, a beanie pulled back on his shaggy hair. Flannel shirt, skinny jeans, funky boots. Kei gave his own scarf a tug.

Kuroo caught his eye before he was within speaking distance. "Tsukki!" He waved his entire arm, grabbed his luggage, and started toward him at an enthusiastic clip.

God, did the man have to look so _happy?_ Kei shoved his hands into the pockets of his pea coat. Kuroo dropped the handle of his suitcase and launched himself at Kei, laughing. He was loud and making and scene and _so warm_ , and god, Kei wanted to hold him.

"Tsukki!" Kuroo gasped in his ear. "Happy graduation! It's here!"

Kei sucked in a breath. _Yeah._ Tomorrow, he'd officially no longer be in high school. His arms crept around Kuroo's back. "Thank you." Maybe formal language would keep him from getting carried away.

Kuroo pulled back from the hug, his grin fading to a satisfied smirk as his eyes swept Kei's face. "Looking good, Tsukki," he purred.

Kei studied the shoulder seam of Kuroo's plaid shirt. "Have you eaten, Kuroo-san?"

Kuroo shook his head slowly, his smile too knowing. "Was waiting to have dinner with you."

"Ah." Kei grabbed for Kuroo's luggage. "Mom's making nabe. No doubt there'll be cake as well."

"Sounds great."

"No idea what flavor. She tries something different every week."

"I'm sure it'll be—"

"There'll be tea after, of course. Do you prefer green or black?"

"Tsukki." Kuroo put his hand over Kei's on the suitcase. Kei dropped the handle like he'd been stung. "Are you nervous?" he asked gently.

Kei stared at him for half a moment, then turned on his heel. "Not at all."

"Yeah? You look like you're about to have kittens."

 _What a singularly Kuroo Tetsurou phrase._ "Perhaps I'm just keyed up about graduation tomorrow."

Kuroo clucked his tongue. "Uh huh? It's definitely not because—?"

"By the way, Mom is insanely proud of her guest room. Be sure to compliment her on it at least twice."

"I'm sure it's a fabulous room. Do I get to see yours?"

Kei tripped over the perfectly smooth sidewalk. "Are you interested in cheap, old dinosaur figurines and home-made planetary mobiles?" He hoped he sounded flippant.

"So interested, you have no idea."

 _Oh god._ A traffic light made them pause at a corner. They were still blocks from home. Kei was never going to survive the weekend. "Kuroo-san..." he began.

"Mm?" Their proximity wasn't remotely inappropriate for a public space, but Kuroo's pleased smile made sure that didn't matter.

"My parents are home all weekend. They'll be... around most of the time."

"Ah." Kuroo cocked his head. "Well, of course I—"

"My brother's probably already at the house now."

"Oh? I look forward to—"

Kei focused on the crosswalk countdown. "I just... you should know how not alone we'll be. All the time."

Silence stretched on long enough for a nervous sweat start under Kei’s coat. Then Kuroo laughed softly. "Well. I assumed? Hey, I'm just flattered you're letting me be part of it." His eyes were warm as he looked up at Kei. "I promise. I'll be on my best behavior."

Kei's heart jumped. "Um. Well." Oh god, he was stammering. "Not that I was expecting—"

Kuroo nudged his shoulder and started to cross the street. "Let's go eat nabe, yeah?"

His mother had put sake in the nabe. She only ever did that for guests. Kei felt himself relax, only half-listening to Kuroo field the horde of questions his parents had about college. Sake in the nabe meant that they wanted to impress him. Sake in the nabe meant that they had no idea the scenarios Kei was spinning in his head for the weekend.

He stood to help clear the table, but his mother shooed him away. "This is Akiteru's job tonight," she insisted. "You make sure your guest has everything he needs. Be a good host."

Kei was proud of himself. He kept a straight face all the way through explaining the bath controls. "Do you think you'll need another blanket tonight?" he asked casually, flicking on the light in the guest room. "It might get chilly." He let the door shut behind him, as though it just happened to fall that way on its hinges.

Kuroo glanced at him over his shoulder, eyes alert. He turned toward him. "I think it'll be fine."

Kei stepped back inadvertently, heart thumping. His mother's laugh was muffled in the kitchen downstairs.

At the subtle retreat, Kuroo halted. He put his hands on his hips and laughed at himself softly. "I've missed you too much, I guess."

His quiet voice lit Kei up inside. _Me too._

"You can go if you want." Kuroo's voice was just loud enough for Kei to hear. "I’ll see you in the morning. Seven, right?"

Kei drew in a deep breath. "If you don't kiss me right now..." He pressed his palms to his thighs.

Kuroo's mouth parted. "Shit."

The back of Kei's head hit the door softly, Kuroo crowding him against it. He paused a heartbeat, lips just over Kei's. Sighed, "Missed you," and the kiss was gentle and warm.

Kei gripped the front of that cozy flannel shirt, insecurities melting onto the floor. Kuroo's sighs against his mouth, his long fingers cradling Kei's face, his warm scent... it all conjured memories of a closet-sized room in a shabby house on a college campus. Kei could have wished they were back there, but — Kuroo sucked lightly on his bottom lip — here wasn't so bad maybe.

"You did it," Kuroo breathed. His lips trailed over Kei's jaw to the pulse jumping in his neck. "You made it." Kei's eyes slid shut at gentle suction on his throat. "You're amazing."

"Not that big a deal," Kei muttered, head resting helplessly against the door. His hands swept underneath the flannel, smoothed a tight T-shirt against a hard chest.

"Coulda gone anywhere." Kuroo's hand slid down Kei's neck, holding him still against his mouth. "So glad. Tsukki."

"S-shut up." Kei wanted to lift his hips away from the door, wanted to press them into Kuroo. Show him he could straddle his leg again, just like before—

Kuroo laughed against his neck. “Fuck, we gotta stop. I just...” He dropped his hands. Stepped back once, twice. Raked him up and down with his eyes. Kei felt exposed, hands pressed flat against the door, breathing too hard to be decent. He loved it.

Kuroo wiped both hands over his face. “Can you stop being hot for two seconds please? Long enough to let me let you leave?”

Kei laughed, harsh and breathy. He stood away from the door, limbs made of warm liquid. He remembered how Kuroo liked his height, tilted his chin back so he could look down at him even farther. “Set your alarm for seven.”

He heard a whispered “ _fffuuuuucck_ ” as he shut the door behind him. Kei smirked, basking in some small pride. Maybe a little frustration wasn’t the worst thing.

Graduation day passed in a flurry of family activity and congratulations from his classmates. Hinata flung himself sobbing at Kuroo as soon as the ceremony was over. Nishinoya, Asahi, Suga, and Daichi had arrived to cheer the graduates on as proud alums, and they all insisted everyone go out for ramen that night. Nishinoya may or may not have brought a flask.

Kei and Kuroo stumbled back home in the wee hours of Sunday morning. They overslept, Kuroo nearly missed his train, and they barely managed a goodbye wave at the train station. No hug and certainly no kisses.

As he watched Kuroo’s beanie disappear past the gate, Kei felt very much like screaming.

* * *

 

Kei’s phone buzzed with texts as soon as the plane touched down in Okinawa. His mom had made his dad swear to take at least a week off work for one last family summer vacation.

_**Kuroo T.:** Call me when you’re in your hotel for the night?_

Adrenaline sent a jolt through Kei’s chest. Okay. Okay, maybe. Tonight he could make it happen.

_**You:** It’ll be late. _  
_**You:** Mom’s got the chef’s experience reserved at some really fancy sushi place._  
_**You:** I guess it takes hours_

_**Kuroo T.:** oh hey! you landed?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** doesn’t matter_  
_**Kuroo T.:** studying late tonight_  
_**Kuroo T.:** will welcome the interruption _( **┳** Д┳)

Kei glanced across the aisle at his parents. His dad was frantically checking emails on his phone, his mom was stuffing everything back in her enormous bag that she’d pulled out over the short flight.

_**You:** ah_  
_**You:** you want an interruption?_

He bit the insides of his cheeks. Kuroo would shut it down like he usually did—

_**Kuroo T.:**... if i say yes please is that too desperate?_

Kei’s eyes went wide. Fuck, what was the appropriate answer? _Okay, see you at nine with my shirt off?_

_**You:** text you when we’re done_

_**Kuroo T.:** well shit_

_**You:**??_

_**Kuroo T.:** how am i gonna study worth a damn now_  
_**Kuroo T.:**_ （＞ω・)

Kei coughed. He hid his phone against his chest when Akiteru thumped him on the back and asked if he was planning to die before they got to the beach.

Dinner did, in fact, take four hours. Kei was of half a mind that he should apologize to the chef. He knew, logically, that this was the best sushi he’d ever eaten. Possibly the best he would ever have in his life, if his dad’s expression at the bill was anything to go by.

It was just too bad for the chef that this was the day Kei would finally ( _surely_ ) get to have phone sex with Kuroo Tetsurou.

Fortunately, his mother and Akiteru enthused enough on the way back to their hotel that Kei was effectively off the hook. Already tipsy from the sake that accompanied the lavish dinner, she and Akiteru made for the hotel bar. It was like clockwork every vacation; by the end of the week, they’d be on first-name basis with the bartender, while Kei and his dad retired to their rooms early every night like the true introverts they were.

Kei locked the door to his room — Akiteru would be hours yet — and tapped out a text, his heart in his throat.

_**You:** at the hotel. _  
_**You:** taking a quick bath_  
_**You:** call in 15?_

_**Kuroo T.:** nice! how’s your hotel?_

Kei frowned. That was hardly the reaction he’d been expecting when he’d mentioned a bath. Maybe he’d misread things. Again.

_**You:** not bad? _  
_**You:** mom likes nice places, so I guess this one fits the bill?_

Kei waited a moment, then tossed the phone on the bed, fighting down disappointment. He yanked his shirt overhead and rifled through his suitcase for his toiletries. The water was running hot when his phone buzzed.

 _ **Kuroo T.:** pics?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** must be a nice bath _(❀◕◡◕)

“Why, you little...” Kei flushed. He marched into the bathroom, unbuttoning his black jeans quickly. Glanced at himself in the mirror. The lighting wasn’t... horrible at least.

_**You:** what about you?_

_**Kuroo T.:**_ -_-  
_**Kuroo T.:** bathroom’s down the hall, remember? _  
_**Kuroo T.:** not really the place for pics_

_**You:** no pics then_  
_**You:** like hell I’m doing this myself_

_**Kuroo T.:** awwww, i didn’t know you cared!_  
_**Kuroo T.:** [image]_

Kei stared. He really, really hoped Akiteru stayed at the bar for... well. Indefinitely would be nice.

Kuroo was apparently only studying by the light of the small lamp next to his bed. The photo was a shot over his shoulder as he lay on his bed. Shadows and soft yellow light played over the valleys and ridges of an athletic-looking back. Gray sweatpants looked soft, the waist pushed low to show off the curve of a trim waist.

Kei’s eyes slid shut. _Fucking finally._ Feeling only a little foolish, he shifted his jeans lower, held his phone up to the mirror, and leaned back to flex his abs.

_**You:** [image]_

_**Kuroo T.:**!!_  
_**Kuroo T.:** you have PURPLE BOXERS_  
_**Kuroo T.:**_ (ﾉ≧▽≦)ﾉ

Kei put a hand over his mouth, ready to die.

_**You:** is that so amazing?_

_**Kuroo T.:** totally would have took you for gray only_  
_**Kuroo T.:** maybe black?_

_**You:** look, just bc everything you wear is black..._

_**Kuroo T.:** not true!_  
_**Kuroo T.:** for instance_

A few moments passed. After some indecisive fidgeting, Kei set the phone aside, shucked off the rest of his clothes, and sank into the heat of the bath. He kept one hand carefully out of the water.

_**Kuroo T.:** [image]_

It was difficult not to splash when you were in a hurry.

The jeans were gone. Kuroo had turned over to lie on his back. A couple textbooks were open on the bed next to his hip. A hand rested casually on a notebook. Beautiful abs led down to bright red boxer briefs that were tight around sculpted quads.

Of course, anyone knew just by glancing at him that Kuroo was a big guy. Taller than average, broad shoulders, and so on. So it stood to reason that... the boxer briefs would... well, it wasn’t too difficult to imagine that... _honestly._

_**You:** Red is hardly a surprise_

_**Kuroo T.:**?? you JUST SAID all i wear is black_  
_**Kuroo T.:** you’re welcome, btw_

_**You:** a nekoma alum wearing red? _  
_**You:** please_  
_**You:** send me a pic when you’re wearing seijoh blue_

_**Kuroo T.:** fuck you_  
_**Kuroo T.:** also_  
_**Kuroo T.:** how’s the bath?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** i believe i’ve held up my part of the bargain_

Kei eyed the bathtub. If he was careful, he could keep his phone from dying a watery death. And Kuroo had a thing for his legs, didn’t he? He bent his knees in what he hoped was a casually seductive pose. He brought the edge of the camera frame as close to his hips as he dared.

_**You:** [image]_  
_**You:** nothing special, but it works i guess_  
_**You:**...._  
_**You:** Kuroo-san?_

His phone vibrated in his hands, signaling a call coming through, and Kei nearly dropped it. He stared at the caller ID.

“K-Kuroo-san?” He sank into the bath up to his shoulders. Weird how a phone call instead of a text made him feel more abjectly naked.

There was a pause and then a self-conscious laugh. “I, uh, totally didn’t think... I just assumed... is, ah, Akiteru there?”

Kei reminded himself it was scientifically impossible to boil water with body heat. “He’s at the bar,” he muttered. His voice echoed strangely against the tile. “Should be for a while.”

“Ah.”

Silence reigned.

“So this is, this is really not smooth at all,” Kuroo said finally. He sounded nervous, despite his little laugh. “But goddamn, you’re really beautiful, Tsukki.”

Kei hugged his knees to his chest. “You’re an idiot.”

“Fuck off. My biochem prof is in love with my brain.” Another pause. “That was... your legs are...” There was a muffled curse.

Kei licked his lips. “Be more specific.”

“More... more specific?”

“Please, Kuroo-san?” Kei lifted his free hand. Water dripped from it, echoing pointedly in the small room.

“Aha.” There was a heavy pause. Then the sound of bedsprings adjusting and fabric rustling. “Your legs,” Kuroo went on, his voice low, “belong on a model. A model with muscles that could crush my skull.”

“Let’s, ah, never feel the need to test that.” Kei squirmed in the bath.

“We should though? For science.”

Kei snorted. “This doesn’t sound like biochem or bioinformatics.”

“I’m environmental science, Tsukki. This totally counts.”

“Your head between my thighs?”

“... _Science._ ”

Kei bit his lip. “What else would this experiment entail?”

“Right. It’s important to be thorough. Think of all the variables.”

“Which means we should really be considering your thighs in all this.”

“Mine?”

“I’ve never gotten to touch you, you know.” Kei let himself pout a little. “Even when you came to my graduation.”

“Tsukki...”

“You practically shoved me out of your room. Remember?”

“Believe me, no one is regretting that now more than me.” Kuroo paused. “But at your parents’ house? You would have... you would have wanted... that?”

“Maybe,” Kei mumbled. “A little.”

“How would...” Kuroo swallowed audibly. “If I were there now. How would you touch me?”

Kei leaned back in the bath. His heart was racing. “Will you listen to me?” he asked quietly.

Kuroo sucked in a quick breath. “Yeah? Isn’t that what I—?”

“Will you do it? What I say?”

“... fuck. Tsukki...”

“Please, Kuroo-san.” Kei was pretty sure he liked that, the Ice Queen voice with the honorifics and the polite speech.

“Yes, yeah.” Kuroo’s voice was rough. “What... what do you want me to...” He trailed off.

 _Oh god, now what?_ “If you were here. Now,” Kei began slowly, “you’d probably be waiting for me to get out of the bath.”

“What, I wouldn’t be in there with you?”

“Both of us? I can barely fit in here. Now shut up, I was going somewhere with this.”

“Ah.” Kuroo coughed. “You were.”

“You’d be out... out in the room,” Kei went on, a little unsure but wanting this _so_ badly. “And you’d be hearing me in the bath.”

“God, I bet you look beautiful right now. You sure I wouldn’t be allowed in?”

“You have to wait,” Kei insisted. “You’ll be out there, sitting on my bed. Thinking about me.” His face was red, but he figured as long as he kept his voice low, there was no way Kuroo would know how much he was winging this.

“Think about you all the time. You know?”

“You’d be thinking about that last photo I sent you. Thinking about my legs.”

“I’m never deleting that photo, I hope you know that.”

“And you’d hear me dry off.” Kei stood, waited for the loudest dripping to die away before he continued. “You’d wonder if... if I’d come out with a towel on.”

“On.”

“... on?”

“God, yes.”

Kei set the phone down, gave himself a moment to catch his breath before putting it on speaker. He dried himself as close to the phone as he could.

“What... um. What color’s the towel?”

Kei blinked. “It’s a hotel. It’s white.”

“Oh. Ha, right.”

The hotel room was chilly, the air dry. Minimalist black and white decor gave the whole situation an atmosphere of unreality, like he was walking onto a movie set. Kei walked over to stare down at his bed. “What are you going to do with the towel?” he asked quietly. He’d left it in a damp heap on the bathroom floor.

Kuroo let out a soft breath. “I’d watch you walk toward me first. Fuck, you’d look amazing. Ha. I’m already... just thinking about... your shoulders, your arms. Your abs.”

Kei covered his eyes with a hand.

“And then, I’d — would you let me touch you, Tsukki? If you walked over to me, you’d let me, right?”

“I thought...” Kei’s voice nearly cracked, but he cleared his throat in time. “I thought we were talking about how I was going to touch you.”

Kuroo laughed, and it was kind. “Damn, and I’d want you to. But you’d be getting shy right about now. I can just see it. So I’d take your hand. See if you were feeling okay.”

“I’m fine.” He could barely whisper.

“Do you know something? I love your fingers. They’re so long and beautiful. I nearly died that one time you got hurt blocking one of Ushijima’s hits.”

Heat flooded him, from his heart to his neck to his gut. [Kuroo had called him to make sure he was okay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5890198). That was the first time Kei had jacked off to the thought of this asshole.

“I’ve wanted to... I’ve wanted to kiss them for so long. Is that strange? People kiss hands, right?” Kuroo’s voice was quiet over the speaker. “But I... I want to... well, with your hands...”

“What do you want to do, Kuroo-san?” Kei’s eyes were closed, a knuckle pressed against his teeth.

“I want to kiss each finger, one a time. Find out if you like it when I suck on them. Would it make you hot, Tsukki?”

“S-shut up.” Kei sat on the bed, knees weaker than he cared to admit.

“And if... if it did. I’d run my hands up your arms—”

The hair on Kei’s forearms stood up, his nipples hard as his skin dried in the cool room.

“—and I’d put my hands on your waist and. That towel. Tsukki, would you let me take it off you?”

Kei opened his mouth in a silent gasp. He bent one knee up on the bed, his dick half hard. “If you want,” he whispered.

“ _Ah._ ” It was a telling sound, followed by a hiss dragged through teeth.

“Kuroo-san?”

“Damn.” Kuroo laughed, breathless, ragged. “I was going to wait, until— _mm_ —”

Kei’s head fall back, his eyes clenched shut. “Kuroo... tell me.” He took himself in hand softly. Tried so hard not to make any sound to give himself away.

“W-wanted you to... tell me what you wanted, but.” A shaky breath. “Tsukki, I... _ahh_.”

Kei leaned back on an elbow, tried to keep his strokes slow and even, tried for some self control.

“‘m selfish.” Kuroo groaned, and Kei tried not to echo him. “Just want your hands all... all over me.”

Kei whimpered when the words timed perfectly with a hard tug. _Shit_.

“Tsukki? God, that was... let me hear you?”

 _Fuck no. Fuck n-_ The thought disintegrated into a breathy moan.

“Shit,” Kuroo growled. “Shit, Tsukki, put the phone... move the phone closer.”

Kei let his phone fall by his head as he lay back on the bed. “Kuroo... san. Please.”

“Yes, yeah, just like... like that.” Kuroo’s moan was muffled, like he’d shoved his face into a pillow.

 _Soon._ The heat was building. _Soon I’ll be there. I’ll be with..._ Kei’s whine was high and helpless, but damn if Kuroo didn’t seem to like it. _With him. With him, and maybe... maybe he’ll want to...._ Kei couldn’t even put words to everything he wanted in his own mind.

God, he’d wanted this though. Wanted to hear Kuroo’s groans, wanted to know the sounds he’d make, wanted to be the cause for the ragged breathing. But more than that, more than that, Kei wanted...

Kuroo groaned hard, a wordless shout. Then Kei’s name following, hushed and barely there.

Kei gritted his teeth. Stopped breathing as he came over his hand, let his mouth fall open in quiet sighs, holding himself through the shivers.

“Tsukki...”

Kuroo’s voice was the picture of a huge cat that was falling asleep after a meal. Kei kept his eyes closed, hot and vulnerable.

“Tsukki, that was... I hope... you okay?”

“Mm.” He’d have to get up soon. Clean off again, pick up the towel in the bathroom. Thank god he and Akiteru had separate beds.

“You’re, ah. You... finished?”

Kei glared at his phone, embarrassment flooding him. “I...” What did you say? _Yes, I orgasmed, and it was satisfying?_ He curled up on his side, turned the phone off speaker, and held it up to his ear. “Yes,” he admitted, quiet and far too shy for what they’d just done.

Kuroo let out a soft breath. “And you’re all right?”

Kei put a hand over his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Ah. Okay.” Kuroo sounded unsure. “Well. Well, I—”

“Thanks.”

“... Thanks?”

“Thank you.” Kei knew his face was pink, and it couldn’t all be blamed on a recent orgasm. “That was... I wanted that.”

There was silence. Kei wondered if he’d gone too far, made things too intimate. That was the shitty thing about opening yourself up. You couldn’t undo it. He tensed, waiting.

“Me too.” Finally, gently. “I’ve... Tsukki, I never want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Kei closed his eyes. Wanted to bask in that tenderness like a baby bird in the sun. Wanted to promise they could figure out more later. Wanted to ask if, maybe Kuroo would want other things. Like holding hands while they studied or spending Christmas together or seeing movies or.

But fooling around was one thing. Asking for more was ridiculous. Volleyball would be challenging enough, and Kuroo would be entering the most difficult half of his studies. Not to mention they’d never be able to hide it from the team. And if the coaches found out—

“I should go,” Kei said. Calm, collected. “Akiteru will be back soon, and the room’s a mess.”

“Ah.” Kuroo sounded surprised. “Right, yeah, of course.”

Kei didn’t hang up. Clenched the phone tighter.

“Tsukki?”

“Mm?” _Ask me to be your boyfriend._ If Kuroo said it, Kei might actually be able to believe they could pull it off. If Kuroo wanted him like that, then maybe—

“Thanks. For, ah, for that. I...” Kuroo laughed again, that beautiful, self-deprecating sound. “I had a lot of fun.”

Kei’s heart sank.

“Well, sleep tight. See you in a few weeks, right?”

“... yeah.”

“Call me when you’re done with your vacation, okay? We need to make plans for when you get to campus!”

Kei swallowed. “Sure. Sure, I’ll call you.”

“G’night, Tsukki.”

Kei waited a few seconds to give himself a chance to say anything that meant anything.

“Night.”

* * *

 

His mother cried at the station. “You sure you don’t want us to come with you?”

Kei made sure his duffel bag wouldn’t bump her as he leaned in for a final hug. The train would be pulling in any moment. “Dad told me about his deadline. It’s fine.”

“Well, maybe I could—?”

“Mom.” He smiled down at her. “You made me send all my stuff last week. There’s literally nothing to _do_. I just have to get there.”

“You have to organize your things,” she sniffled.

“I’m sure Asahi-san’s already ironed every piece of clothing I own.”

She wrinkled her brow. “I thought you were staying with Nishinoya-san?”

“Yes. But Asahi-san is... a close friend, and he’s very... domestic.”

“Well, as long as someone’s able to cook once in a while, I suppose.” His mom dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “My god, go! Get out of here, why are you still standing here, go on!”

He hugged her once, laughing, and jogged for the train.

“Text me the minute you walk into your apartment!” she yelled after him.

Kei flicked open his texts as soon as he found a seat.

_**You:** on the train_

_**Kuroo T.:**!! IT’S HERE! _  
_**Kuroo T.:** DRUM ROLL PLEASE MAESTRO_

Kei smirked.

_**You:** please keep up the enthusiasm unabated for the next several hours_  
_**You:** that shouldn’t be hard for you_

_**Kuroo T.:** you laugh but the joke is on you, my icy friend_

_**You:** dare I ask?_

_**Kuroo T.:** surprises and shit are in store_  
_**Kuroo T.:** though maybe i shouldn’t have said?_  
_**Kuroo T.:** Riri is glaring at me which is never good_

Kei registered the name as one of the core group Kuroo had been hanging out with over the summer. His nerves flared to attention. So many new people to get along with. What if they liked Kuroo and not him?

_**You:** spill_  
_**You:** you’re already halfway there_

_**Kuroo T.:** never._  
_**Kuroo T.:** see you TONIGHT TSUKKI AAAUUUGGGH_  
_**Kuroo T.:** IT’S HEEEEERRREE_

Similar texts popped up throughout the train ride. Kei only began to get suspicious when they started coming from people other than Kuroo.

_**Noya:** YOU’RE ALMOST HEREEEEERRRRRRR_

_**Unknown:** TODAY’S THE DAY!_

_**Unknown:** you’re almost home!_

_**Unknown:** I HOPE YOU’RE SOBER AS A BRICK CUZ THAT’S CHANGING IN LIKE 2 HRS_

_**Asahi:** looking forward to seeing you tonight!_

_**Unknown:**_ ヾ(*・ω・)ノ゜★゜☆

_**Asahi:** uhhh, was I not supposed to say that?_  
_**Asahi:** act surprised, okay?_

_**Unknown:** Tsukki-CHAANNN WE WILL FINALLY BE WHOLE ONCE AGAIN HUZZAH_

Ad infinitum.

When his stop was announced, Kei stopped puzzling over the texts long enough to check the address to his new place. He hadn’t been back to campus since the recruitment weekend, but the college housing near campus shouldn’t be too difficult to navigate. He’d find the apartment, unpack his duffel bag, and then make Kuroo tell him exactly how many strangers had Kei’s number now.

The apartment building was old, on a street lined with tall cherry trees. It was only a couple blocks away from the cheap bars. A few young people wandered the cracked sidewalks with idle purpose. Not many students had to be on campus so soon. Just athletes and student government, mostly.

Kei allowed himself a contented sigh. It was nice to start out fresh like this. On a quiet day, with not much going on. He climbed the stairs to the apartment he’d be sharing with Nishinoya as of...

“Now!”

The door to the apartment flew open, and Kei froze. And stared into Kuroo’s wildly grinning face.

“Tsu _kkiiiiii_!” He threw himself at Kei, wrapping his arms tight and squeezing.

“My god, _what—_!”

“You made it!” Nishinoya swept under Kuroo’s arm, squirming into the sudden embrace. “Welcome home, roomie!”

“I... I’m home,” Kei stammered on reflex. “What on _earth—_ ”

Bodies poured out of the tiny apartment, laughing and chattering, and Kei recognized _some_ of them, but honestly! There was Azumane, apologizing and trying to tug Nishinoya off of him. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were toward the back of the group, still inside the apartment. Oikawa gave a cavalier wave. Several volleyball players he’d met last time shouted their welcome. Even Tanaka Ryuunosuke was hollering in the middle of everything, flanked by three tall girls who looked somewhat familiar.

Kuroo hooked an arm around Kei’s neck and turned to face the crowd proudly. “Had to make sure you felt welcome your first day in your new place!”

“I told him it was a brilliant idea!” Nishinoya crowed. “We got pizza, we got beer—”

“Hiyori made a cake!” a tall brunette girl piped up.

“I, uh, brought my games.” This from a shy-looking volleyball player.

“What, all of them?” someone asked, shocked.

“Well, not _all_ of them all of them, but yeah, a few?”

Kei found himself ushered into the apartment, his bag taken off his shoulder, a drink shoved into his hands. People bustled around, a few guys setting up the gaming console, a couple people in the kitchen cutting a cake, Nishinoya making sure everyone had a beer in hand who wanted one. Kei was rooted to the floor in the middle of the living room, pulsing with disbelief and the special tension that comes from being suddenly surrounded by people.

“Hey.”

He looked up blindly.

“You all right there?” Kuroo asked underneath the noise of the room.

Kei was incapable of even nodding.

“Oh. Um.” Kuroo glanced around. “Ha, never been in Noya’s apartment before. Your room’s probably this way?” He took Kei’s hand gently, found his discarded duffel bag, and led him down a narrow hallway. He pushed open a door, shut it immediately. “Better hope that one’s Noya’s. Maybe this...? Ah, here we go.”

The room was even smaller than Kuroo’s. There would be space only for a futon when the small table was folded up against the wall. Kuroo set the bag neatly to one side and turned to Kei, his hand on the back of his neck.

“So, ah,” he began. “Maybe this was a little much for your first day.” He looked up at Kei as though gauging his response. “If you want, I can—”

Kei grabbed Kuroo by his T-shirt, not caring if he stretched the collar, and yanked until their chests collided. “You owe me,” he grumbled, “a million nudes for pulling this shit.”

“A-a million?” Kuroo’s ears went pink. “That’s, uh, that’ll take a while.”

“I’ll also accept kisses.” Kei felt his face get hot. “Payable starting now.”

Without taking his eyes off him, Kuroo reached over and pushed the door shut. “Ten seconds. Noya’s probably already noticed though.”

“Fucking Noya,” Kei whispered. He pulled Kuroo gently into him, savored the half moment before his mouth covered Kuroo’s. Why was it, how was it, that Kuroo’s kisses made him relax almost instantly? Tension left his shoulders, and he sighed into Kuroo’s mouth. Arms wrapped around his neck, fingers wove through his hair.

Kuroo kept the kisses light, much as Kei wanted to move closer, deeper. It was torture, the feathered touches over his lips, the sweet pressure against the corner of his mouth. He wanted more, wanted to tell Kuroo how much he missed him, how happy he was to finally, _finally_ be near him. Playing volleyball with him. Training with him. Holding him.

A video game theme began playing loudly in the living room, and Kuroo pulled back. Kei swallowed his disappointment, released his grip on Kuroo’s shirt.

Kuroo released a pent-up breath and grinned. He ran a hand through perpetually mussed hair. “Welcome home, Tsukki.” He kissed his cheek, a light peck, and moved past him to open the door.

Kei bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling.

* * *

 

“Tsukki!” Nishinoya’s excited gasp sounded from behind him. The weather was rainy, and they’d both opted to stay in to study. Nishinoya seemed to prefer lounging with his laptop on the couch anyway.

“Mm?” Kei was almost used to Nishinoya’s dramatic reactions to literally everything by now. He settled his shoulders against the couch. It wasn’t too uncomfortable on the floor, as long as he could steal a cushion.

“Your _birthday_ is today??” Nishinoya flopped onto his stomach and leaned forward so he was eye-level with Kei. “Were you planning on telling me, like, ever?”

Kei blinked. He picked up his phone and checked the calendar. September 27. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Nishinoya barked. “Huh?! You _forgot?_ ”

Kei was rather impressed that he had, actually. It was one of the things that he tended to still be stupidly childish about. It was his mother’s fault. Birthdays were her favorite. The Tsukishimas always did them up big. He set his phone down and pretended to go back to his homework. “It seems I did.”

“You serious? We should do something! I’ll call up Asahi and Kuroo, and we’ll—”

The doorbell rang. As one, Kei and Nishinoya stared at the door. Kei picked up his textbook. “You answer it. I’m comfortable, and you’re bouncing around anyway.”

“Aw.”

The open door let in a blast of stormy wind that sent Kei’s notes flying. “Noya-san!” But Kei’s scolding died away.

Kuroo was soaked. He brushed sopping wet hair out of his eyes and grinned. “Happy birthday, Tsukki.”

Nishinoya shut the door against the rain. “Kuroo-san!” He slapped him on the shoulder. The sound was a wet _thwack_ against his soaked T-shirt. “We were just talking about you!”

“Naturally. It’s just that so few people actually admit it,” Kuroo teased.

“Two seconds, I’ll get you a towel.” Nishinoya disappeared down the hall. “I was just saying we should call you and Asahi-san, and all go out and...” His voice fell to mumbling as he rummaged in the bathroom.

They watched each other, Kuroo dripping by the front door, Kei clutching his textbook on the floor in front of the couch.

“Happy birthday.” Kuroo finally broke the silence.

“You said that already.”

Kuroo cocked his head, sending a trickle of water down his cheek. “You gonna sit there forever?” Canines flashed in a sly grin.

“You’re soaking wet.” But Kei stood, damn him.

“Come get your shoes on.”

“What, you want to go somewhere? In this?” Kei gestured to the window overlooking the balcony. Rain coated the glass in sheets.

“We’ll go to Tanaka’s, it’s not far.”

Kei hesitated. Tanaka’s izakaya was a favorite of the volleyball team lately. Kei personally was in love with the katsudon. “I have an umbrella,” he said slowly.

“Perfect! And I’m already wet, so no problem!”

He looked so triumphant. Kei fought back a surge of butterflies. “You’re an idiot.”

Kuroo glanced out the window. “Current evidence would suggest you are correct.”

“Here’s a towel! I didn’t have any clean, so that’s Tsukki’s last one.” Nishinoya threw a striped towel at Kuroo’s head. He ran back to the couch for his phone. “Just lemme text Asahi-san, he’s probably not doing—”

“Ah, Noya?” Kuroo lifted a hand. “Uh, maybe—”

“Kuroo-san wants to prove how big an idiot he is by going out in this mess,” Kei interrupted. “I’m not letting him drag you or Asahi-san along too.”

Nishinoya looked up from his phone, surprised. Then a horribly knowing smirk crossed his face. “But you’re letting him drag you along?”

“Every once in a while, I'll take one for the team.” Kei was proud he didn’t blush. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Uh huh. Be good.” He flopped back onto the couch with his laptop, lips pressed tight in a pleased smile.

The pub was, to no one’s surprise, nearly empty. Kei doubted Tanaka’s dad would even be there if the man didn’t own the place. He grumbled about idiot kids as he led them to the tea room in the back.

Kei glanced around at the small room. There were old art prints on the walls here instead of the ubiquitous beer posters in the rest of the bar. “Idiots must get special treatment when no one else bothers to come out in typhoon weather.”

Kuroo seated himself with less than his usual grace. “I... reserved it.”

Kei dragged his focus off a print of Mount Fuji to stare at him. “You reserved the tea room?”

Kuroo fidgeted with the fake flower arrangement on the table.

“Afraid there was going to be a rush tonight?” Kei sat across from him.

Kuroo laughed, but it was pure reflex. Kei cocked his head. Where was the cocky jock who’d shown up at his door in the rain?

Tanaka-san bustled through the curtain with hot tea. Kei barely heard Kuroo order, watching his every move instead. He was always so sure of himself, confidence spilling over onto everyone else, making everyone around him feel like they could do anything. It was what had kept Kei from throwing up all over his shoes his first college game.

When Kuroo drank his tea so quickly he burned his tongue, Kei felt it was time to say something. He reached for Kuroo’s mug and set it aside firmly.

“What the fuck,” he enunciated, “is going on?”

Kuroo’s eyebrows shut up to his hair.

“I don’t know if you’re thinking about something or upset or sad or what, but you know you can tell me, right?” Kei wondered if his cheeks were pink yet.

Kuroo’s mouth was open a little. “Tsukki.”

“I mean, if you’re fine, that’s... fine. Of course.”

Kuroo stared. Then ducked his head and laughed. “Tsukishima.”

Kei froze. No one had called him that since he’d been on campus. And Kuroo hadn’t called him that in _years_.

Kuroo pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. “So. This was going to be a birthday present.”

Kei’s heart was in his throat. “But it’s not anymore?”

“Um. Well?” Kuroo pulled out a slip of leather and metal. He held it in both hands, not quite holding it out for Kei to take.

So he looked and waited to be unconfused. It was a bracelet. Simple and thin, with a delicate metal chain braided through soft-looking, chocolate-colored leather. He looked up at Kuroo for answers.

Kuroo was watching Kei. “It’s... um,” he tried. “I’ve... I’m really glad you’re here. At school,” he clarified when Kei glanced around the small room. “And on the team. With... with me.”

Kei’s eyes locked onto Kuroo. Hard.

“And I—” He took a deep breath. “—I think we’ve had a lot of fun together. The past few months. And even before that, in high school, I think... ” He fidgeted with the bracelet. “I don’t think I’m wrong in saying that we had fun then too, maybe. Or no, I just need to speak for me. So.” He was staring at the table, a fine sweat standing out on his forehead. “I guess what I’m saying is—”

Kei reached out a hand, put it on top of the bracelet. “I like you.” _God, don’t let me be wrong, what if I’m wrong, what if that’s not what this is, oh god._ His heart hammered in his ears.

Kuroo’s head snapped up. “Tsukki?” he breathed.

Kei swallowed hard. “Kuroo-san, I like you. I have for, for three years.” He took his hand back and gripped his mug of hot tea. “Please... please accept my feelings.”

Kuroo stared. With a small groan, he faceplanted on the table, hands still clutching the not-a-birthday-gift. “Always so formal, Tsukki.”

“That’s not an answer,” Kei pointed out, trying not to sound desperate.

Kuroo looked up at him, those brown eyes killer underneath shaggy dark hair. “You’re going to kill me.” He sat up. “First of all, I like you too.” He paused. “So much, Tsukki. I was pretty sure you knew, but I like you.”

Kei’s lips parted. The table was suddenly a lot farther apart than it had been minutes earlier. “Kuroo-san—”

“Second of all, fuck you for saying it first.”

Kei’s jaw snapped shut. “Wh-”

“But I guess I was making a shit job of it.”

“You kind of really were!” Kei retorted.

“And third, as punishment for confessing before your senior could—”

“Oh my god.”

“—gimme your hand.”

“... what?”

Kuroo gestured with the bracelet. “Your hand, Tsukki, whichever you want to wear this on. Stop ruining the moment.”

“What moment have you not already ruined?” Kei’s heart was going to launch out of his chest like a rocket at any moment, he was certain. He held out his right hand.

Kuroo’s fingers brushed over Kei’s traitorous pulse to fasten the clasp. “As punishment for confessing first,” he continued, “I get to ask the next question.”

“Are you going to be quicker about it than you were the first time?” Kei hoped he sounded careless, but it was hard to overcome the mantra of _oh god oh god oh god_ that was on loop in his head.

“Tsukishima Kei, will you go out with me?”

Kei sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide, hand frozen in Kuroo’s.

“What? Not quick enough?”

“No! I mean, y-yes.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

Kei wanted to die. “ _Yes._ Yes, let’s. Let’s go out,” he finished quietly.

Kuroo’s eyes slid shut for half a moment. Then he flashed Kei a brilliant smile. “Yeah.” He stood from his seat, glanced at the curtain doing a piss-poor job of giving them any privacy, and leaned over the table. Kei lifted his chin just in time for a tea-flavored kiss.

It was slow, warm, too much for such a place, and way way not enough. Kuroo ran his fingers over Kei’s jaw, sensuous and shiver-inducing, before he sat back down.

“What about... the team?” Kei whispered. He didn’t take his hand away from Kuroo’s.

Kuroo twisted the bracelet around Kei’s wrist, admiring a new angle. “Most of them already know.”

“They _do_?”

“Yeah? I mean, it was pretty much a lost cause as soon as Nishinoya found out, you know?”

“Fuck, what about the coaches?”

“Hey.” Kuroo picked up his hand, kissed the back of it softly. Which did nothing to calm Kei’s panic. “We’ll just have to be careful. Noya’s got it figured out. So does Oikawa. We’ll just follow their lead.”

Personally, Kei couldn’t think of two figures less likely to provide a path to a discreet relationship. But Kuroo’s lips hadn’t moved from his hand. They were, in fact, trailing down his index finger.

“What lead is that?” Kei asked, a bit more breathlessly than he’d intended.

“Well.” Kuroo nibbled at the edge of his nail. “Strictly professional during games and practices. Volleyball time is volleyball time.”

“You volunteered to put the balls away the other day so we could make out in the storeroom,” Kei countered, blushing liked mad.

“No incriminating photos on school email.”

“No one _made_ you email me those nudes of you jacking off in the stacks last week.”

“No dates the night before a game, Oikawa told me that one.”

“We are literally playing at ten tomorrow morning.”

“Really? Okay, here’s one... no sex the night before a game.”

Kei’s mouth gaped. Kuroo met his shocked look with twinkling eyes.

“What? We’ve totally never done that,” Kuroo insisted, his voice like silk. “And like you said. Tonight’s a game night.”

 _Oh my god._ Kei bit back a groan as Kuroo laughed softly against his fingertips. _This guy. He always_ starts _something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER. If anyone wants to write that last hinted-at sex scene (or draw it), be my eternal guest. Just send me a link, cuz I wanna enjoy it too! I imagine these two will figure out how to get it on at practices, after games, in each other's rooms, etc., etc. 
> 
> Also, please be forgiving when it comes to the timing of everything throughout this whole universe. Japanese school years, volleyball seasons, weather, and so on -- Better yet, just don't think about any of it.
> 
> Yyyaaaaayyyy, you're all so BEAUTIFUL!!

**Author's Note:**

> [@codango](http://codango.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr
> 
> [Marcella Christie](http://marcellachristie.com/) for my alter ego


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